


la gaudière

by perryvic, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Series: Emotional Intelligence [4]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Blow Jobs, Enthusiastic Consent, Frozen Teardrop has a lot to answer for, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Newtypes (Gundam Wing), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychic Abilities, Quatre Raberba's Uchuu no Kokoro | Space Heart, Self-Esteem Issues, Sleepy Cuddles, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29765658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perryvic/pseuds/perryvic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: "Frankly I'm surprised I'm still alive," Quatre blurted out. "Because you know that you've never really trusted anyone after..." He cut himself off, not actually sure what was going to come out of his mouth but unable to stop the instinctive look towards Treize’s childhood room."Hard not to think about it, isn't it? It changes the way people see me, and I've never had someone find out without finding it stuck in my back again at the first chance. It's a sharp knife to wield." The door between the two rooms, and he didn't know how the man stood it, how it worked in his head to come back to the same building. There was a sharpness to the man's eyes, an almost fierce predatory hunch to his shoulders as he watched Quatre over the edge of his coffee cup. "Poor boys, their mother was such a beautiful tragedy, she missed her first husband so much, what a true love. And Treize, you look just like Ein, so tall, same face. Except I was five the first time she kissed me like a lover, and I understood everything she was doing to me. I wasn't tall and I didn't look like my father yet."
Relationships: Treize Khushrenada/Quatre Raberba Winner
Series: Emotional Intelligence [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2186436
Kudos: 5





	la gaudière

**Author's Note:**

> la gaudière -- n. the glint of goodness inside people, which you can only find by sloshing them back and forth in your mind until everything dark and gray and common falls away, leaving behind a constellation at the bottom of the pan—a rare element trapped in exposed bedrock, washed there by a storm somewhere upstream

Treize seemed to be making a minimal effort toward the resting they were both supposed to be doing. The study was a comfortable place, clearly well lived in. There were charging ports hidden in the furniture, a projector in the coffee table to explore. Treize dozed on the sofa, apparently something of a comfortable habit from body posture, and by the time lunch was brought up, there was a new data pad for him to reinsert his credentials. Because Treize had arranged for him to talk to Duo as well, and that was such an... Unexpected thing. 

He had hurt Treize with his uncontrolled abilities and nothing could make up for that, and yet he had arranged for him to speak to his friends. Speaking to Trowa was a relief; Trowa was looking better and more settled and he had been worried about Duo. Duo was the most likely to do something reckless to get out of the situation.

But he was also with Noin, and they had all worked with her before, she was known and trusted, so maybe that would help. Maybe. This time it was an incoming call from Noin, and the trill was quite loud.

"i'm going to remind some of the rest of the staff that I'm still alive while you talk," Treize said, standing up stiffly from the sofa.

"Thank you," he said. Treize had seemed a little better, less fuzzy headed since he'd given in to the compulsion and been able to connect with that golden energy feeling. What he was wondering was if it had ever happened to any of the others when he had been close to them. He answered the call, smiling already at the thought of seeing the other Pilot.

He was met immediately with Duo's wildly smiling face. "Holy shit you really do have a black eye. Hi!"

"Hi, Duo!" he said back grinning. "You look well." He did, less anxious and drawn than he had when they were sharing the cell.

It had only been a week at the most and he was already looking more human, more himself. "I'm doing okay, yeah. Noin's good people, even if she went crawling back to OZ."

"Noin is the best," Quatre agreed. "I take it you 've spoken to Trowa?"

"Yeah, he's all in. They got him looking into everyone's dirty laundry in Romefeller to see who might turn from the inside or whatever. Leverage. They're a fucked up people, let me tell you. How're you doing? You look terrible, man."

"I'm fine," he said automatically and then exhaled. "The truth is I'm having a few problems, Duo, and I wanted to talk to you. " It was easier to talk to Duo about it. Out of them all, Duo was the most contact orientated. They had been physically close more often than any of the others.

Duo was disarming, and charming; he wielded it like a weapon, but he was good at it and genuine in everything that came out of his mouth. It made it easier. "Yeah, hell yeah, how can I help?"

"You know that you've all joked about... what I can do. How connected I am with emotions and... you know." Quatre murmured a little awkwardly. "Um... when we were together did you ever notice anything?"

"Okay. Uh. Like what was I supposed to notice?" He reached up and scratched his head lightly. "Are you okay? Khushrenada hasn't done anything to you, has he?"

"More like the other way around," Quatre replied and he knew his smile had slipped. "I, I went to try and help his headache like I've done with you guys and something happened, Duo. He started seeing memories, and got... all OZ like and thought I was trying to do something and called me a newtype..."

"Dunno what that is, but I can look into it? I've never, I mean it felt good? You, you really made everything feel okay. I never saw memories."

"I don't know if this is something that has been triggered recently," Quatre said. "Because I'm struggling to control it. I think it wants to fix things but, there's such a lot to fix and I think I knocked the both of us out last night." He was trying to remember if there had been a compulsion the first time they had been together, too. He remembered desperately wanting to make Duo feel better but wasn't sure if that was the same thing.

Really really desperate, but once the kissing had started everything had gone very naturally, with the two of them naked, not passed out on the floor unconscious. "You knocked him out? What happened?"

"I... I'm not sure. I had a physical compulsion to touch him but I tried not to because of what had happened before. But he knew and he reached and I took his hand and dropped deep into his memories of trauma and pain," he said, knowing his voice sounded unsteady. "I was trapped there, but I eventually mastered it enough to pull out. I'd been unresponsive or unconscious and so had he. And...I don't know what it was doing or trying to do."

"Man, I don't give a shit if the man's whole family had their faces ripped off by lemurs. He's a murderer; they burned down a church full of people, Quatre. They wiped out Wufei's colony. Just flung fucking bio weapons at any colony in a cluster that made them busy." Duo rubbed a hand at the side of his head. "Specials. Fucking crazy Specials."

"You could say the same about us," Quatre answered, trying to remind him of that. "You know my deep regrets. Things I cannot be forgiven for, that is the nature of war. But... I would never purposefully hurt anyone and I did, and now..." He exhaled. "So I thought I would ask what you had experienced from me."

Duo frowned, looking down. "Just... warmth and love, Quatre. Like nothing I felt before, okay? Except maybe back home before it all, yeah. Yeah. Can't recreate that."

That felt good to hear. "I miss you, too," he said with a faint smile. "But I suppose it answers why I don't look that well. All this and the injury, and the journey here that was difficult meant I have felt better."

"Are you getting any care at all? I mean if the guy is setting you off... You need to rest." But it had been a whirlwind. He wasn't sure if the hospital setting had made it worse, had maybe made everything raw.

"I don't want to end up in a lab, Duo," Quatre replied. "Treize wouldn't, but Romefeller would. So would others, given a chance. I don't even really know what's happening. Hopefully I'll get a chance to ask you all."

"Dorothy wouldn't, would she? I mean, she gets it. She's head of Romefeller now. She's fucking power mad like all of them, but she gets it." Duo looked confused, and that was okay, he was confused, too. "But he can see stuff. Do you, when we were together did you see stuff in me?"

"I felt things," Quatre admitted. "With you. I didn't see anything with you, but I think I might now." And that probably meant that Duo would never want to touch him again.

"That would kind of suck," Duo said honestly. "Church burnings, you know. You'll have to let me know what it looks like from the other side."

"If it happens, I will," he replied, shifting slightly. "You don't hate me for it? I know it was regarded as a bit of a joke sometimes."

"No, why would I hate you for it? That'd be weird as hell, I mean it takes two to tango as Father Maxwell always said." He pulled a face and blurted, "You're not. I mean. You haven't."

"I'm doubting myself at the moment," he murmured with a faint shrug. "I suspect it's going to take me a while to master this, if I can." If he couldn't he didn't like to think about it.

Random contact with anyone at all triggering it off? Anywhere, any time. "And you're trapped with the enemy. Okay, uh, let's talk this through. You've started to see things and get trapped in like memories? And you feel a compulsion to do it and end up trapped. What ends it?"

Quatre paused a moment, thinking. "When I reach through and manage to pull up a positive feeling I can put into that space... and relieve the hurt."

"So you're replacing a bad memory with an okay feeling?"

That was a possibility. "It definitely takes something, but I don't mind." This was helping talking to Duo. "It's like making something whole? Not replacing it, but filling in the bits that are broken that are making it get stuck.”

"Okay. But how do you..." Duo tilted his head side to side in thought. "Know that the good you find is the patch for the bad? Maybe there ain't any."

"In people like you Duo, the good is something I've always known to be there," he commented. "Our purposes were pure, but war is not. The truth is, I don't know how I know, I'm not even sure what I am doing is that but it feels right."

"Nah, I meant." Duo shook his head. "I mean, what if it's not the right patch? Or if the right patch just doesn't exist? Some stuff you can't just blot out. Like me or Heero. Like Heero."

"I don't think it removes it, more... deals with it," Quatre decided. He sighed a little. "It's only happened a couple of times so I have little evidence to choose from. Heero, I did see something with Heero. But I was trying to break him from ZERO."

"Okay. So what did you see with Heero? What happened then? Talk it out." Duo rubbed at the side of his head 

What had he done? He'd been so desperate to reach him that he'd pushed at him -- the pain that he'd been feeling, his own hurt and sadness and forgiveness if Heero killed him in his madness. Because he knew what happened in ZERO. He'd felt Heero grappling for his sanity and demanded of his mind to show Heero a reason to keep living, to regain control of what he wanted most.

"Relena, he used Relena as a way of finding his way out of the madness. That's why we came back to Earth then. I could see that pulling at him."

"Okay, so that's something to fix it. Something that's tangible and now. Do you see what I'm getting at here?"

"That I'm looking for solutions to fix things? Drawing them up?" 

"Oh you're nicer than I am, man. I was going to say that psycho probably doesn't have anyone, so you're wasting your time. There isn't going to be a Relena."

"Then maybe he needs to know it is a possibility," Quatre decided. He shrugged slightly. "Thank you though, that has helped. What are you doing again? Are you likely to be at the elections?"

"Oh yeah, and the stupid conference before the elections. There's all sorts of work Noin's trying to do to turn this shitshow into a peacekeeping operation, can you believe that?"

"I can," Quatre nodded. He wasn't quite ready to share the fact that there didn't appear to be a cohesive plan linking them all together.

Maybe there was, maybe there wasn't. He was starting to think he would have to produce his own. "So the General's behind it?" Duo seemed dubious. "And Relena and all of them. Fucking crazy thinking about it."

"I believe it was part of their plan for the long term. Treize didn't expect to be alive to implement it." Quatre bit his lip. That brought up some memory images, which he tried to shake off. "Either way, the elections are the important thing. No matter what they say, strategically, they're the weak point. There will be factions on Earth and in the Colonies that might seize the opportunity to make trouble and wipe out leadership on both sides."

Duo gave a frustrated huff. "Man, you're trying to talk me into not letting that happen. I like Noin. She's good people."

"I am glad you're with her. How is she?" Losing Zechs... He wondered if he had been with her whether he would be having the same problems. He didn't like to think that everything he did was reactive and instigated by compulsions he couldn't control.

The odds were high that he might pick up on her grief and be faced with the same problems. Duo pulled a look and waved a hand side to side. "Eh. Lots of work to be done. Work work work. Got her drunk last night and didn't even have the heart to try to run for it. She was ten when she met Zechs. Lots of that stuff. They grew up together. Weird shit."

He didn't know enough to be sure, but there was something telling him part of this had been planned. He couldn't say anything, though. "It is probably for the best at the moment," he said sympathetically. "I wish I could help. She is... was truly in love I think."

"Yeah." Duo scrubbed a hand against the back of his neck. "It's weird. She likes women, mostly? But holy shit, crazy dude loomed larger than life and he was sleeping with the General, too. I dunno. Don't get your Ozzie drunk, okay, you'll learn some messed up shit. But she loved him. Sure as shit he's dead, though. Said Khushrenada had Epyon's parts retrieved, considered it a grave relic or something."

"I never discount the faintest possibility of life unless I've seen the body. " Quatre answered. "I've learned that from experience but I'm not cruel enough to say so. I'm worried about Epyon, though. Sometimes I wonder if those machines have a way of getting themselves built."

"I'm worried about anything fancy pants built himself," Duo murmured. "Heero said it was fucking wild. I mean, he didn't use those words, but he frowned a lot and said he didn't understand the man's mind, and that was about as close to 'fucking wild' as we're gonna get. He's doing okay, though. Heero. Relena's got him as head of security."

"Is he settled?" Quatre asked, thinking about 01. Yes, he'd been drawn to him and he was one of the most damaged of them all. He was starting to see a pattern and this wasn't entirely a new thing or a healthy one.

No one was going to help him unpick his own patterns. "Yeah. Yeah, Noin's travelling a lot for the general while he's half dead or whatever, so I've seen him. She's got him in fancy duds, but he's got a gun and database access, and I think he's looking for our Gundams."

Quatre sighed a little. "I miss Sandrock," he said, feeling it as an ache in his bones. Duo was deeply attached to Deathscythe as well. He was mildly surprised that they had given Heero a gun so rapidly. "And I suppose it would be difficult to have a head of security without a gun."

"This whole thing is a fucking joke, that's what it tells me." Duo turned a little, and waved at someone. "Eh, we're on the road again soon. Noin just gave me the five more minutes sign. I'll call again, okay?"

"Thank you Duo. I'll look forward to it." He sighed when the other pilot clicked off. It had helped, but now he felt lonely and even more worried about what was happening.

What could he do in the face of unknown capabilities that he couldn't fully control? That he didn't know how to control or where to start or when the next compulsion would hit. And what was the line between the compulsion and an actual human connection with people? Did any of them care or was it the pull of something bigger than him? At least Treize's interest had an engineer's gleam to it, an open curiosity, no attempt at a connection being made.

It was something for him to think about in the silence of the empty but otherwise peaceful sitting room. He wondered if there was a way to exorcise the suite next door short of burning it out.

There was a knock on the door eventually as a prelude to it opening, and Treize letting himself back in. He was carrying a mostly empty cup of coffee and his datapad, and he looked softer somehow, relaxed. "I've talked to the staff about how I expect you to be treated, so I don't think you'll need to sequester yourself up here forever if you don't want to."

"Thank you," he answered. But he wasn't sure if he could just mix with people until he knew what his issue was. "I'll probably stay close for a bit. But if you want your own privacy, please tell me."

There was that weird laugh, a soft huff of a chuckle that sounded deeply bitter, but he was smiling. "I'm accustomed to company. If I'm caught talking to myself, it reflects less poorly on me if I have company." He sat down on the sofa across from Quatre again. "I'm not recording your calls. If you were curious."

"I know." Quatre paused, wondering how he knew that so implicitly that he didn't even question it. It was just there in his mind, an incontrovertible fact that he knew Treize detested that sort of thing.

He watched Treize's face as he processed the same thought once the words were spoken. "I wonder how much of me you have in there."

"Or how much I left of myself in you," Quatre replied. "This is very frustrating. Duo didn't have similar experiences to you, just the more positive feeling and without betraying any confidences. He's had many traumatic experiences, too."

"Yes, Maxwell church." Treize sipped at his coffee, expression carefully neutral. He rubbed a thumb idly at his shoulder, pressing at some old wound that fit the memory. "I know that from the intel packages we created on you, not from your head. I wonder if the solution here is to get that out of your head or to finish the job and quit."

"I..." Quatre stopped. "Are you seriously wanting me to try more of this? " Didn't he understand how difficult this was for him to control and how terrified he was of losing control of it again?

The worst of it was he could feel a wave of frustration surge up and then ebb back down, all while Khushrenada kept a calm face. He couldn't quite place why, and for a long moment the man was silent, struggling with what to say. "You now know more about me than people I've trusted all of my life, and I didn't have a choice in that. How do you think this sits with me, knowing what you know?"

"Frankly I'm surprised I'm still alive," Quatre blurted out. "Because you know that you've never really trusted anyone after..." He cut himself off, not actually sure what was going to come out of his mouth but unable to stop the instinctive look towards Treize’s childhood room.

"Hard not to think about it, isn't it? It changes the way people see me, and I've never had someone find out without finding it stuck in my back again at the first chance. It's a sharp knife to wield." The door between the two rooms, and he didn't know how the man stood it, how it worked in his head to come back to the same building. There was a sharpness to the man's eyes, an almost fierce predatory hunch to his shoulders as he watched Quatre over the edge of his coffee cup. "Poor boys, their mother was such a beautiful tragedy, she missed her first husband so much, what a true love. And Treize, you look just like Ein, so tall, same face. Except I was five the first time she kissed me like a lover, and I understood everything she was doing to me. I wasn't tall and I didn't look like my father yet."

He found himself shrinking back, colour draining from his face as he came face to face with the Treize that Duo held in his head. The killer who would defend himself rather than the one who would die to stop all wars. The sensation was like stumbling over a tiger and his kill. He felt trapped in the situation, that whatever he said would be counted as an attack. "I-I'm sorry Treize..."

"No." He set his mug down, but there was still an aura of tightly coiled frustration. "No. But you have it all in your head now and you just can't pretend you don't know."

"I'm not sure what I know. Until it came up." Quatre could feel the warble in his voice, barely there, noticeable only to him. "I swear though, I would not use it against you. I want to help you!"

"You can't." The man was holding still, as if he were keeping himself still and tight. "There's nothing to help. It's just memories and everyone is dead."

"But they still have a powerful effect on you," Quatre insisted, forcing himself to lean forward towards him despite the fire. "And maybe I can help you let go, as their deaths haven't had that result for you."

The man made a noise, and lowered his head, covering his mouth for a moment. "You think I killed them."

Quatre was stunned, the emotion from the other man hitting him like a physical blow. "No! No, Trieze, I didn't mean that, I..."

He made the mistake of trying to get up and move, only thinking the situation was too volatile and he needed to get out of there.

"How, how the hell do you get from what happened to that?" He reached, maybe to grab Quatre's arm to stop him. It was hard to tell if he really did have a violent impulse because he had expectations left over from Duo and Trowa, and then the man made contact with his wrist.

He was trapped in the room. Always in the room, everything closing in around him because he knew how this went. He wasn't meant to know because he was too young, they said, but he knew. More than they thought possible.

Every night, he waited. Made sure Vingt was comfortable and had been read to, and then waited in the dark for the door between the rooms to creak open. She moved quietly from one dark room to another, and the bed always creaked when she sat down beside him, hands under his pajamas, the touch of fingernail on skin, sliding beneath his pants. He couldn't cry, there was no place for it and she wouldn't listen. It was better to be still and quiet and just breathe through the terror. He was trapped.

He could feel it happen, one time of many, layered over and over. Helpless because... because she was his mother. Good boys didn't say no, but he thought it. Over and over as control slid away from him, the word repeating fruitlessly in his head as he tried to barricade himself away from what she was doing, what she wanted him to do. Who she wanted him to be. Never a son, Vingt was her son. He wasn't, and he could smell her perfume, cloying and sweet as she pressed against him.

It looped and layered, and it was hundreds of orgasms, a lost feeling of his body not being his own because he couldn't say no and Vingt didn't understand why their mother spent so much time with him and he wanted it to stop, he wanted it to stop. And then his stepfather found them, like it was a secret, like it was news, and everything went to hell.

Sent away, sent to military school and the constant dread something was happening to Vingt, and the cold hatred of his stepfather blaming him. It had to be him...

It was unbearable, each experience searing itself into him as if it was his own. Quatre felt like he was being drowned in it and survival kicked in, instinct. It snapped out and if he'd wanted to do anything other than help or stop the pain in his heart of hearts it would have gone badly for them both. Instead there was a golden feeling, a light that illuminated the truth in a way that could not be avoided and stopped the memories from feeding on themselves like an ouroboros in a never ending loop. That energy became intense and profound; it couldn't take away the past, but it could sever the draining tangle of emotional pain connected with it that sapped the will, optimism and strength. How Treize had managed with this weight constantly in his mind, Quatre did not know because it was taking everything he had just to cut it loose.

It wasn't his to work with, and he didn't know, he just hadn't grappled with something like that because it had caught onto other things, it had tangled into his training and every relationship that had followed, hooked tendrils into the underfabric of most miserable and half the happy memories, caught up in Vingt and his assassination, their mother's death.

It fought him, the connections still active and he found himself Gundam like wielding sickle blades of golden light to sever those attachments. He lost all sense of time. It could have been one second or hours, but he kept going. The others were surprised by his endurance. They all had strong wills, but when it came to saving people pain, his was the stronger.

As it continued, he became more practiced, more economical and self aware of what was happening. He wasn't just acting on instinct any more but able to look and rationalize.

And now he was running out of time.

He couldn't cut it loose from everything, it was too knitted up in self sacrifice and trying to help others, protecting, and there was something familiar he was feeling, seeing as he touched at moments and memories. It was caught on something else, something deep and familiar, and the golden light couldn't come close to it, wasn't the right tool. He was sure it was, it was...

* * *

Twice in two days, and Watson had every right to be upset with him, since he was coming in to find Quatre passed out on the sofa, completely unresponsive. He'd been furious on the phone and Treize didn't doubt he was going to be furious in person, but it had crossed past...

Something to deal with electrolytes and sleep. Perhaps.

He felt like he was exhausted himself but also that he had more energy, or a deeper reserve. He'd known not to touch him like that, but in that moment where he'd felt the icy shock of believing that Quatre thought he had been responsible for the deaths of his mother and brother...

Well, rationality had gone out of the window.

Rationality went out of the window often enough for him, and the last time hadn't been so bad, had been more like something normal. This...

When Watson knocked, he was up to open the door immediately, stepping aside. "Come in, he's just there on the sofa."

The doctor limped in, looking him up and down as well. "You sit down as well. Seriously Treize, I thought I broke you of this two steps forward one step back recovery pattern years ago," he grumped as he immediately bent over the younger man to take his pulse, frowning a little.

"I've had plenty of time to redevelop and improve on the technique." He pulled a chair up nearby, and rubbed fingers at the side of his head, watching. "I'm afraid we're both terrible patients."

Blood pressure cuff was out, around the thin arm, and John's expression was not improving. "How did this happen, and what happened before?" The 'and why didn't you call me then?' came through loud and clear.

He lifted his eyebrow at Watson. "It's a long story, but he essentially fainted. I'd given him a shock." Which was a succinct way to say it because it wasn't his secret to tell. "Accidentally. Last night. It was late and... also a shock."

"The last time I said bullshit to a general, I nearly got myself a dishonorable discharge. " John answered. "His blood pressure has dropped very low. Has he eaten?" He was doing a blood glucose test rapidly, and Treize remembered the pilot eating well enough.

"He's been eating. Breakfast and lunch. I'm trying to keep him fed up. He's small for twenty three." Watson could say bullshit all he wanted, "Anyway, you're out, so there's nothing I could do to you."

"His blood sugar has bottomed out," Watson said, fishing around for a glucose tablet and putting it under his tongue. "We've got several options. He's exhausted himself somehow with a massive sort of exertion or he has internal bleeding or he hasn't eaten."

"The first one." Treize closed his eye tightly for a moment. So the chalky sweet salty mess from the electrolytes had been good. "Last night I gave him the stuff you have me keep. So, we just need to keep him from... exerting himself."

"I see," John said. "Right, well we can sort that out." More of the glucose tablets under the tongue and the doctor took a selection of bloods.

"Where's those electrolyte powders? I'll make one up for him. Call for juice. That works." He stood up and then came over to see him as well, taking his pulse intently.

He tilted his head slightly, giving John an appraising look. "I know what you're thinking. I haven't done a thing to him. It's just... the pilots have had a rough time and perhaps I'm not the best person for anyone to be locked up with."

"Your blood pressure is a bit low as well," John commented and looked at him making a face that indicated he was next. "I seem to remember having a tough time never stopped us over-exerting ourselves."

He also got the blood sugar test, a bead of blood collected. "How are you feeling otherwise?"

"More likely to say something I'm going to regret than usual. Struggling to read anything but French. I'm getting single words but nothing comes together into a sentence. That's fine, I now have one more way to annoy my staff with paperwork." Why would his blood pressure be low, particularly after all of that? That had been a heart racing horror show, and if he hadn't been worried about infecting the wound on his side, he would've already locked himself in his bathroom with a great deal of hot water. 

"Well, I have the neurologist ready to see you in a couple of days," John said. "He'll want to do scans so it might take time."

He was peering into his eye, checking his reactions. Treize wasn't sure what reaction he was looking for when only the right one was working. "That's fine. I'm not having trouble speaking universal or English, so it's a little maddening to have lost the reading."

"It could be the concussion," John said. "That is possible. Hmm your blood sugar is a bit low as well. But you have eaten?"

"Decent lunch, sandwich, then coffee and a pastry." It was a long-standing habit if conditions weren't austere, and fairly well known that he liked his coffee black, and supplemented it with sweets if they were around. "So no reason for that."

"That is odd." Watson gestured in a way that made it clear that he needed samples and he was going to be taking them.. "And you definitely haven't been doing anything exertion wise? No sudden blinding headaches or pains?"

Treize sighed, and pulled at his right shirtsleeve, pulling it up and then folding the cuff so the man could get to the inside of his elbow. "Have at it, I am your lab rat. The most I've done is go downstairs and talk to the staff. The most he's done is make a couple of video calls."

He took the blood samples and he heard Quatre make a faint noise on the sofa as if he might be coming round.

"Good," John said. "If I had my way, the pair of you would be in hospital." He collected his vials of blood and scribbled on them and then went back to Quatre.

"Quatre, can you hear me?"

The pilot opened his eyes a little like he had the world's worst hangover, and from the shade of green he seemed to turn as he struggled to lift his head, he obviously felt a little like that too.

"I'll get the electrolytes." He got to his feet unsteadily, and headed for the bathroom to prep. He looked throwing up on the carpet green, which Treize considered a reasonable reaction to thinking for any length of time about manicured nails stroking his stomach.

He brought it back, mixed, watching John kneeling down by Quatre.

"I... think I'm going to... be sick," Quatre mumbled with a panicky expression as he sought something to vomit into. John fumbled rapidly for what was a toughened cardboard receptacle from his kit and thrust it at him in the nick of time.

The pilot looked thoroughly miserable and his eyes...

Well, he definitely knew about it all in detail now so the look in his eyes should not have been a surprise.

"How are you feeling?" John asked. "You need to drink the electrolytes. You, too, Treize. You will both feel better for it."

"Him first. It'll knock the taste back." Treize handed John the glass to hold on Quatre's behalf, and walked back to mix one up for himself. Shutting down was easier, sliding into autopilot of tasks, and coming back to sit and watch.

"Thank you," Quatre murmured as he swallowed down the liquid and blinked a little. "How long was I out?" he asked, finally only just gathering that John was there.

"Quite a while," John said. "Do you suffer from hypoglycemia at all? You didn't declare diabetes."

"No, I'm not diabetic," Quatre said. "I didn't sleep well, I haven't slept well for a while. I did mention that in the medical. I tried to get up rapidly and Treize caught hold of me and... I don't really remember much else."

Thank god that their stories matched. Treize sipped at his own chalky sweet salt mix, elbows resting on knees. "I think there's a mold problem in the suite next door. I need to have the place exorcised or something. I'll have the staff set up something downstairs, air the place out, but..."

Watson looked at them both obviously not believing a story about mold. "Well, I'll leave him here for now but either of you, if you get any more neurological symptoms I want an emergency call. If it weren't for the fact that I've already got you the earliest possible MRI's already tomorrow we'd be heading into hospital now." He got up. "Both of you eat, a good mixture. If you can't eat it all at once, start having smaller meals more frequently, Quatre."

The Pilot nodded gingerly. "I will."

"The rest you know. Fluids and for the love of god will you pretend you are resting at least?"

"Of course." Treize rubbed a hand over the right side of his face because it kept him from picking at the bandages. "Do everything we haven't been, right. Right." He could feel John's interestingly confused expression and didn't want to have to deal with the man doing his _I know you're lying_ face.

"Okay. I'll check in with you when I get the bloods back." That being said, he finished putting his kit back together and rose to leave.

"Thank you, Doctor Watson," Quatre murmured from the couch and he was still eyeing them a bit suspiciously as he left them to it.

Treize was quiet for a moment even after the door had closed. "I'm sorry about that. I, I'm not trying to torture you."

Quatre looked at him, frowning a little. "I didn't think you were," he said. "But if you didn't want me to know any more then I'm sorry, Treize, I... now know a great deal more. I understand that you find that threatening and I'm sorry. I apologize."

And he just sat there looking at him as if he expected him to unleash some form of retribution.

He exhaled slowly, feeling the heel, and wrung out and tired just thinking of any of it. "I've never struck one of my staff in anger. I'm not about to start. It's... not threatening. Just a bit depressing, isn't it?"

"It shouldn't have happened to you, Treize." Quatre grimaced. "To anyone. I'm sorry it did. I... it's difficult to find words. It's so much, I-I did something though. Disconnected the memories and emotions from drawing energy from you, cut the tangles stopping things from finding their natural closure and progression. 

"And you took yourself out," he pointed out, gesturing with his mostly empty glass. "It feels distant somehow. It usually is distant. I don't..." Treize shook his head slightly, and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I had hinged a great deal on dying; on having a choice to call it quits, and still being here made everything worse."

"No, it's not worse. It's only that there's no plan so it feels that way." Quatre sat up properly. "I think that I can do something with whatever this is. I think it does want to help, not just pry and poke."

"What you need to do now is sleep." And he'd call down, give the staff cause to roll their eyes at him again. "And then we'll talk this to death and make notes. Do you think you can stand?"

Quatre forced himself to stand up. "I feel shaky," he admitted. He started heading towards Treize’s room without any prompting and Treize was wondering how he could even do that.

It was the damndest thing, and he was simply going to let it go. He let him wander away, and picked up the phone to call down for a light tea and someone to clean away the mess for which he deeply apologized. It was easy to do, and then he gathered up the datapads to see that Quatre was all right.

He was in his bed, and had curled himself up and belied the fact that he wasn't asleep by being completely still. It was too obviously a position held there. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting. Things had become a little bit fraught earlier on and now they were at a completely different place.

Treize wasn't sure what had shifted; something in his head, and there was no question that Quatre had done something. "Or perhaps you'd rather talk now. Is it too bright in here?" He moved past the bed to pull the curtains.

"A little. Will you come and be close, too?" he asked hesitantly. "I feel reluctant to sleep alone."

"Ah." Treize tugged at the curtain rod, and started to unbutton his shirt. "I'm sorry to have shared that. You didn't happen to be straight, did you? I'd really like to apologize if that's the case. I enjoy both men and women, but it's certainly made women a challenge. Oddest things put me into a tailspin. Perfume."

Quatre grimaced. "Yes, I understand. And so far I have been along the same lines as you. Mine is more focused on the connection. But I understand what you're saying."

He did. It was strange to think that there was someone who truly did understand every single thing. It was odd, but he wasn't feeling angry about it. He sat down on the edge of the bed, taking his shoes off with care. "The other pilots. Do you love them?"

Quatre hesitated. "I don't know how to answer that. The connection... I feel love. But I can also feel what they feel about me when we're close. Now I'm second guessing all of it. I gave them what they most needed and I don't even know if they really care or it's just a response." He seemed most sad of all about that.

That was depressing. Treize scrubbed fingers against his own scalp for a moment, and sighed as he moved to lay down beside Quatre. Napping with his slacks on would be no challenge. "At least I know with people that they're interested in power or influence. There's something very acceptable about going into it with open eyes and enjoying it anyway. I don't expect love." 

"I suppose I don't either," Quatre replied. "But sometimes it's not about power or influence." He looked at Treize then with guileless eyes. "Maybe we'll know if it did any good after we've rested. I think I'm starting to get a bit of control."

He hadn't had a whole lot of choice; it was like war in a way. You didn't get a lot of practice at it, you worked out how to survive or you didn't.

Whatever was going on with the pilot, Treize was convinced he was the best and the worst person in the world to be trapped with. The inside of his head was a mess most days, worse from the concussion and the post war fallout and the strain of trying to keep all the balls in the air when he felt honestly terrible. His skull ached on and off all the time, and twice now the pilot had dragged him through hell. But it hadn't been a solo ride either time, and that made his heart hurt. It was hard to describe, so he simply wasn't going to try. It was easier to lie down beside the pilot, reaching a hand out to stroke his shoulder. He gave and gave to his fellow pilots and they took, and maybe that was why everything about Quatre was familiar and tolerable. "No one is going to put you in a lab. We'll figure this out."

That was pretty much all the reassurance he could give him, and he would do everything he could to make sure it was the truth.

* * *

He dreamed of hands that didn't belong on his body, of too long kisses, of smoke and grease and then the smell of cold, of air that stung and the must of basements and someone's hand in his hair, head slammed against the wall while someone fought him down until he gave up and went with it. It wasn't as if threatening to kill him worked; it took more than that.

It took actual defeat.

He wondered if any of Treize's nightmares involved sight or if all of them involved touch, pain really, and smell and the dark.

He'd woken up with tears on his face and wasn't sure if that was part of the nightmare or his reaction to it. He hastily wiped his eyes and face so Treize wouldn't see. The man was resting and asleep, and that was a minor miracle. He just needed to get his head around what happened now that his head wasn't thumping dramatically.

Quatre slid carefully from the bed and went into the bathroom to have a long shower. He felt a little like he'd been fighting all night, aching, sweaty, uncomfortable, and the hot water was a godsend even if it meant stripping off bandages. Things felt more manageable after some rest and he was going to go and find a nice comfortable spot, maybe in front of the fire, and meditate. Think through what had happened. One thing he was sure about was he had made a terrible mess of it all.

Not that being essentially a prisoner was supposed to be easy, but he'd stuck himself deep into Treize's mind and pried up his darkest secrets -- he hadn't relived all of them, but whatever those suggestions were from some dark space felt much more recent, and maybe that was why the rest of it had all been sitting there close to the surface of the man's mind, like how breaking the same arm twice made all the old broken bits hurt worse than the new broken bit, the actual injury.

But now he knew Khushrenada and he knew he had made a mess of it. There had been a plan in the man's mind, and it was simply a plan for him -- keep him safe, keep him alive until after the elections, find a way to free him.

He could have the confidence that the other pilots didn't have that the intention was real. But he also was very fully aware that things did not always go the way that Treize wanted or followed the plans he laid down. He needed to let go of that.

Quatre dried off and then dressed in soft casual clothes and went into the study area, finding the fire still with a flicker of life to it. It was the work of a minute or two to stir it back to flame with more fuel and blowing on it and the sound of it crackling and the warmth made a good accompaniment to dropping into his meditation. He should have done this more. He relied on it as one of his main coping mechanisms, and he'd not really managed to do even a 'maintenance version' after the war. It took longer than usual to work into the deeper trance; he had to go back to basics and work through it step by step, but once he was there he felt a peace and clarity he had been sorely lacking since this happened.

It gave him some calm in the storm of memories and feelings that weren't his own, letting him center in himself and relax.

He started thinking over the focus point; his abilities, the incidences with Treize, and the potential outcomes. He had to accept that whatever was happening, it was not going to magically stop as it had been something that had occurred prior to this outburst and alteration in its manifestation. The factors that correlated with the shift in intensity were basically Treize or the intense Gundam battles, or both. Something about either of those factors might have had a catalytic effect, but even if it did, the fact remained it had happened. Being upset and uncertain would benefit nobody so he had to find that certainty again.

He needed to come to an accord with Treize about the fact he had stolen secrets of his past in his mind. He needed to analyse what difference those horrifying sessions made and if there was a way to break it.

He needed to be stronger than he was being right now; Treize did not need to know about nightmares and the physical side effects.

He wasn't sure how to interact with the man and that was something he needed to fix. He was sleeping in his bed and eating his food and spending time in his company, but he hadn't... there was a gap there. There was a gap, and it was perhaps a gap that Treize held in place naturally despite that he'd now spent two nights in his bed and two nights getting a dark view from the inside of his head.

The man was complex and he spent a lot of time going over what he had disentangled in that frantic panic, and exactly how he had called up an active energy to use, and what it seemed to do. He got well and truly intensely lost in that process because it was fascinating. It was seeming like he was able to cut away and nullify the effects of something that he understood or experienced. The cutting was more a symbol for comprehending, understanding and processing for him. The exhaustion was a part of that, and of course, he had tried to manifest things again. He had some of Treize's other experiences, but that one, he'd had to live through until he could neutralise the pattern that held him there.

There was the possibility he could neutralise the pattern entirely.

But what was the line between helping and taking something away from who a person was at the core of their personality? The mess with his brother was tangled into everything, underpinning everything in Treize’s life, his perspectives of war and peace, his goals, the way he interacted with other people. If he neutralized it entirely, what would happen?

"Quatre. Breakfast."

He startled into consciousness as he was deciding that was not an option and blinked into awareness. "Thank you," he answered automatically and was a little stiff getting up. He must have been meditating a long time for Treize to wake, shower, order breakfast and for it to arrive. From the amount there it looked like either Dr. Watson had been tampering or Treize had decided a little of everything would work.

It was probably that second one; there was even a well cooked soft couscous, which was clearly pandering to the tastes of L4. Treize settled in with toast and meat and coffee, looking... better. More together, perhaps. Still tired and freshly bandaged, but looking together. "Perhaps you need to put a sign up for me so I can tell the difference between sleeping and meditating."

He smiled a little. "Generally I meditate in a sitting position," he replied, helping himself to food. Amazing how different he felt from the night before. "I feel I should apologize for my conduct over the last few days. I'm of the opinion I haven't handled things well."

"Neither have I." His tone was apologetic, perhaps a little light. "My head hasn't been in a good place to handle any of this. Everything got a little desperate as the war started to come to the end."

He nodded. "I understand." 

Quatre ate a piece of toast and then went for fruit and yoghurt. "I do a lot of post-situational analysis in my meditation to gain a more objective viewpoint on my own actions. There were key points where I was entirely to blame.”

"Oh yes?" The man seemed amused by that, watching him. "And how is that?"

"In the first instance, it's clear this is a genetic issue, something I've always had but which for some reason has triggered into an active mode." Quatre explained as he ate rapidly. He was actually quite hungry. "The correlating factors unfortunately aren't clear enough to definitely say they are the causative factors." He poured some tea as well, offering to pour for Treize.

"Thank you." Treize inclined his head slightly. "Vingt was very sure I was a newtype, that I had broken myself. I could be aggravating your natural skills if he's correct."

The missing pages in the notes. He nodded back. "Thank you for telling me. It also occured to me that you will inevitably have access to or more experience with this sort of phenomena, so I need to disclose any relevant facets of what's happening so it can be properly documented. My natural inclination is to deal with everything alone."

"If you're living here, that's only going to make it worse and piss me off." He said it without any anger at least, just amusement. "So you've relived my memories. And I have... impulses, perhaps? Of you."

That was interesting. "Probably due to my lack of control and inexperience. The memories I relived were ones I had no understanding or basis to make some form of empathic link," Quatre said, contemplating if he could eat more. He sipped his tea. "The driving force appears to be empathy, not sympathy. Empathy for a situation allows me to respond actively and do something to the emotional energies that were tangled up. I think after the first day, the process was left half done. I'd half primed the system."

"Ripped open a leaking wound," Treize corrected with a wry note to his voice. "I did not enjoy my time in house arrest; it stirred up old problems, made them real again. I was using Epyon, which was a relief, in a way." He rubbed at the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "So out of empathy, you felt an urge to fix."

"The compulsion. Once the circuit is linked, the current needs to flow," Quatre replied, which was the best analogy he could come up with that someone who had built gundams would understand. "Once it did, I was able to actively work with the emotional issues. I believe there are various levels to this, but releasing is key to allow a natural recovery."

"But you're reading my... let's call it free floating anxiety," Treize remarked, looking thoughtfully at him. "And that caused your compulsion."

"Because a great deal of it had become tangled and feeding off of those events in your childhood," Quatre agreed. "As a keystone of how you think and operate and feel about things."

"Yes, that's just..." He shrugged at Quatre, pulling a wry look. "That makes quite a bit of sense, doesn't it?"

"More than it did a couple of days ago," he admitted. He sipped his tea. "The bit I don't know is what actual results that will bring. It's not magically going away, but I think the separation means you won't have your energy fed into it, and that you won't be limited in future in the areas it was constraining your thought patterns."

He gave that weird, sad sort of chuckle, and reached for the tea Quatre had poured. "And what thought patterns have been constrained?"

"It's difficult to tell," Quatre said and shrugged slightly. "It was involved in a great deal and I would be lying if I said I suddenly knew how this worked. These are my best guesses. But it goes along with my beliefs about ZERO, and how the mental outlook of the one using it significantly affects the selection of infinite possibilities that they grasp onto. That is my own experience."

He wished he had never built Wing Zero, plans or no plans. His state of mind had been distraught and vengeful against the universe and the ZERO system had given him options to stop the fighting by using a path for vengeance. It was only later he realized his subconscious had also had a powerful input and had found a scenario where he was stopped and Trowa wasn't killed. The odds were too extreme that he would have survived that without there being some guiding force.

"I've tried to kill myself before," he commented casually, sipping the tea. "So when Epyon showed me nothing else, it was a welcome relief."

He had a sudden disorienting flash of images that he reacted to keep under control, not wanting to spin off into another spiral again. "After my father was killed, and my sister injured and I built Wing Zero, I was... vengeful. Not a normal state of mind for me," Quatre murmured, just accepting what Treize had said. "The course of action I was shown and invoked all involved a vengeful aspect, but I think it was in direct conflict to my base nature. My subconscious also had an input."

"So was it really in contrast with your base nature, or just in contrast with your better nature?" Treize leaned back in his chair, and cradled the tea cup in his hand.

"I believe that both had an input, but they are not things I am necessarily conscious of," Quatre replied. "They're difficult to pick apart because it just happens. In the same way you don't tolerate invasions of privacy, that's just a part of you. To countermand that, you have to put in real effort."

Treize smirked a little, mostly to himself. He seemed very amused at something he was keeping to himself a great deal of the time. "My stepfather is still alive despite that. Somehow."

Quatre smiled a little. "A testament to your strength of character?" he suggested. He was feeling full now so he stopped eating and refilled his tea. "Perhaps I need to be more proactive about working on controlling reactions. There are two other facets to this... one, I have a rough sense of people without touching them, possibly enough to tell if they're lying. Secondly, for the first time I was aware of impressions received from inanimate objects."

"Are you willing to test that in a less emotionally charged testing area?" Treize offered it thoughtfully and perhaps he had an idea of where or how.

He thought about it. "Yes, but perhaps not immediately?" he considered tentatively. "I think we do need to get some strength back." He hadn't really looked at how he appeared today, but he was willing to bet it wasn't his best and at some point they needed to see other people.

"Oh no, not today. No. I don't want to go further than the library. My head is killing me." He waved that off with both the tone of his voice and a motion of his hand. "And I still owe Relena a call later."

Instantly he wanted to help and again he had to quash that impulse. "When did Dr. Watson say you were seeing the neurologist?"

"Two more days? So the day after tomorrow?" Not really obsessively beholden to time, and there was a general assumption that someone would tell him where and then to be somewhere. "I struggled a bit after my last concussion which is something you never want to say to a doctor. One shouldn't be well experienced in taking blows to the head. How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine." he said automatically and then amended. "Considering. I am feeling some physical effects." A bland way to describe how he felt, but he had become used to ignoring that.

"What physical effects?" The man seemed disinclined to let that go so easily.

He toyed with his cup. "Exhaustion, nausea, muscle pain and something similar to migraine feeling. Much of it is similar to how you feel after piloting for a long stretch."

"You're short a kidney," Treize pointed out. "What do you do in your free time?"

"I didn't have much on the colonies, but I do enjoy playing music," he said, more confident about saying it now.

"Ah, that's right, you told me that." It seemed to get his attention. "Do you feel up to going down a flight of stairs to the library? There's a piano."

"I think so," he said. It was very relaxing to play, and it allowed him to think as well. "Do you play, Treize?"

He had a sly smirk on his mouth. "Oh, badly, but yes. At party trick quality -- nothing good, just something to get a laugh." Quatre had half a flash of memory there, Treize dressed in his uniform in some bar, other officers around him, someone trying to sing along with dirty lyrics.

He smiled at the thought; he liked the comfortable feelings that came with those recollections. "You can shock me with it at some point," he suggested.

"Mostly involves insulting our superior officers." He lifted the one eyebrow Quatre could see at him. "You run out of people to make up dirty songs about when you're at the top."

Quatre smiled. "You were probably the nightmare of your commanding officers," he said.

"General Catalonia took me under his wing and worked hard to file off the rough edges." That sounded like it might have been Dorothy's father. "And I probably drove him insane, yes. Anyway, you can help me figure out how badly out of tune the piano is."

"We can do that when you don't have a terrible headache," he said firmly. "I can't imagine my playing will help that."

"The last time I had a concussion." He paused and added, "I can feel John rolling his eyes at a distance. But the headache dogged me for about three months."

"That's not a good sign, Treize," he replied frowning. He didn't know much but that surely indicated damage. "Have you taken your medications?" He had to take his own now he had eaten.

"The good news is that it went away briefly during the Eve War. The bad news is that it was replaced by a new one." The other man got up, setting down his tea. "I'll grab yours."

"Thank you," he said. The meds would help and then maybe after relaxing he could continue working on his strategy now that he had an unrestricted data pad.

He distantly heard the door between the suites open; Treize returned after a few minutes, carrying a handful of meds for Quatre. "I'll call Relena and then give up on working today."

"Okay. Do you want me to leave?" he offered as it had occurred to him he hadn't really given the Treize the courtesy that he had extended to him.

"No, it's fine. It's usually an awkward conversation and perhaps you'll find yourself amused." He took a swig of tea to wash down his own meds.

"Okay. " He took his as Treize video called Relena. She was obviously expecting the call as it was less than three blips of the data pad before he heard her voice.

"General Khusherenada, I'm glad you've been able to find time to call me," Relena's voice sounded, and Quatre found himself suddenly acutely aware that Heero was listening as well. Interesting.

"I apologize for missing the call yesterday afternoon; I'm afraid I just needed to sleep." He threw her an easy, warm smile, and the apology wasn't too apologetic.

"I'm glad you've prioritized your health when it must be so difficult to do so with so many pressures upon you," she replied with sweetness and a tinge of sarcasm. "It makes this time to discuss the elections all the more important. There's a move to have the central system of collating polls located in the Sanc Kingdom."

He could tell that Treize was less than delighted with the sarcasm, though his face was calm and his expression relaxed. He had rolled over for democracy. He hadn't had to, and it ate at him sometimes. "You say that as if it just happened, as if it moved itself. What you mean is, you have lobbied to have the collating polls moved to a fairly indefensible location in exchange for the improved optics that comes with such a move."

"The Sanc Kingdom is already visible for both Space and Earth, and you would be hard put to deny that it is the perfect emotive place to close on one era of humanity and begin the next," Relena stated and Quatre almost giggled. It sounded like she had rehearsed that over and over in her mirror. "However, my new head of security has advised me that there are significant concerns with regard to the safety of this event."

Treize shifted in his chair, and leaned an elbow on the arm of the chair. "Mmm, a five-year-old could've told you that so I'm glad you're not paying money for Pilot 01's expert feedback. Your capital is indefensible. It's emotionally an excellent choice, and tactically the funniest thing I've heard in years."

"Then you owe it to us to make it defensible for this historic event." Quatre winced because though not much showed in Treize expression it was like he'd stabbed out in irritation. People didn't tell Treize what he should and shouldn't do or what he owed.

He didn't owe anyone anything. He had done his part. "We can start by getting a time machine and stopping your father from knocking down the fort in the bay that ruined his view." Treize sighed heavily, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Fine. Fine. Any other demands you'd like to levy today?"

"Space is feeling like they're making a major concession if this is the case," Relena answered. "There will be a need for adequate security on the colonies for voting as well. I understand this might make things difficult to protect?"

"Yes, you've just made my job ten times harder, and I fully understand that. I'm unsure if you understand this. So you four made this decision, and I'll clean up the mess of it. I don't require your concern about the impacts now. Is there anything else?"

"There have been some... rumors about your custody of 04." Relena spoke carefully and Quatre sighed. That damned picture or... wait, he could actually sense something else and that was remarkable. As if she had inside information.

"Yes?" He didn't offer anything there, expression still quite neutral, even if his voice tipped one way or another slightly.

"I need to remind you, that the agreement was that they are to be well treated with no reprisals." Relena's voice was firm. "I understand that the Gundam pilots must present you with... a difficult challenge, but it is important."

He could feel Treize’s rage forging itself into something devastating. How dare she impugn his personal honour and integrity?

Quatre got up and walked over, trying not to be in shot because he probably didn't look well. "Please tell her I'm perfectly fine," he said loudly. "Just convalescing."

"Yes, thank you. I'm sure she heard you. You could remind yourself that Dorothy took out one of his kidneys, and that's a bit more than a scrape. I'm more curious who's telling stories." He felt the man calm himself, take a deep breathe.

"The source isn't important," Relena waved that off. "But there have been pictures in the press, and rumors of the need for medical attention."

Quatre shook his head, the leak wasn't John. Someone else then in that department or someone seeing Watson visit. "Kidney. Bad blood sugar, and I've been unsure of my staff, so he's been going to the doctor when I go." He drummed his fingers on the chair. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

Why did people keep treating Treize like he was some form of monster? "Shall I speak to her?" he said quietly to Treize, not wanting to undermine him. "At least half of this is Heero."

After all, she had spent as much time concerned about him as she had about the Kingdom. Perhaps she was genuinely concerned for him after the time they had spent protecting her.

"No, but you do have to explain yourself to the Council if anything has been going on."

Treize closed his eye, and Quatre could feel the deep rage that was being swallowed. "This is not a topic of discussion. This is an unfortunate misunderstanding that I discussed with Dorothy. Do you have anything pertinent to discuss?"

"I believe that is all, I just wanted you to be apprised," Relena said and Quatre wanted to defend Treize and explain how wrong she was.

"I'll appraise you of the changes that need to be made to make New Port City defensible." The frustration was tangible, and Treize looked suddenly quite tired. "Noin will work with you on implementing them."

"Thank you for your time, General Khushrenada," Relena said and the link stopped. Quatre found himself standing near to Treize and possessed of impulse just to... hug the man. He checked that it wasn't a compulsion and then possibly unwisely and without warning embraced him.

There was no answering flood of memory and horror this time, just a feeling of shock and frustration, and he clutched at Quatre for a moment, one hand against his back, shaking with the anger he'd pent up, like he wanted to howl with it. Instead he bent his head in and hissed, "Fuck. Fuck them all."

It was easy just to hold him there and stroke the back of his neck and hair. "That was unfair to you," he murmured, knowing it needed to be said aloud at least once. "They don't understand."

He hadn't either but he did now. He understood the things that had sometimes been done in Trieze’s name but not with his permission. "I didn't have to step down. I don't have to take this." It was pent up emotion, and maybe it mingled with everything else that had been going on. They didn't understand, and it was perhaps a relief to hear that.

"You don't. You could walk away," Quatre murmured. "But then you wouldn't be you. You've never willingly walked away from the hard decisions or the consequences of them in your life."

"Fuck." Except that usually he wasn't injured and nursing a concussion. He felt a shudder, and then Treize inhaled, trying to calm himself.

Quatre held him; this was something he was used to doing, something he knew how to do. Tight enough that touch felt real, loose enough they could slip out when they wanted. He resisted the urge to use whatever this thing was and stuck with his normal mundane version of empathy. "You're not alone," he murmured at him, following his instincts.

Not in that moment. Not just then, but for all the admirers and followers, the soldiers who looked up to him, he was alone. Had been alone for decades since everything that happened in that room did to change the way he dealt with the world.

He felt Treize make a noise, a hitched thing, and let it pass without comment.

Sometimes silence was the best medicine to administer, although often the hardest of all to maintain.

* * *

The library was a lovely room with floor to ceiling bookshelves, a ladder that ran across the room on runners to get the books at the top, large plush couches, and a grand piano that looked well tended and a little worn.

"I'll leave you to it here while I walk Lucrezia through the bad news." Treize lingered for a moment once Quatre had crossed into the room. His eye was still a little puffy and red from earlier, but the impotent rage had drained away. The man hadn't needed a detailed reliving of anything, or a deeper psychic support, he had just needed someone to hold him and be there while he fought back his roiling emotions. From Treize's own memories, it was easier, usually. The concussion was playing a part, messing with his iron control and letting even Relena find a space to put a knife through his armor.

That was okay. Quatre wasn't going to make a big deal over it. Why would he? It was just a simple gesture and it was no effort for him and it had helped. He hoped it had at least.

Quatre walked over to the piano. It was a little dusty but when he touched the keys, they rang true in pitch and tone. It was a fine piano and he sat at it, flexing his fingers a little. The scales were a little tentative to start with but muscle memory loosened him up and he started with some of the classics he knew well enough to play without thinking hard.

It wasn't as active as meditation. It was just relaxing and he played with his eyes closed so he could feel the music more.

At least he didn't stick his tongue out in concentration like he had as a child. His sisters had found that hilarious.

He drifted into improvising his own melodies, soft and melancholy trying to capture the feeling he had about what had happened, and those he knew and cared for.

"That's really beautiful. Is he going to start letting you out to see the rest of the staff now?" It was a young woman, which oddly surprised him; she was maybe around his age, just in normal-ish clothing, with an apron. 

He blinked a little focusing on her. "Hopefully, if my injuries from the battle don't play up again," Quatre answered, figuring that it would do no harm to attribute his appearance to circumstances having nothing to do with Treize. "My name is Quatre..."

"Lily." She smiled and curtsied at him. "You're from L4. My whole family works here, so it's been a bit... hard not to notice."

"Oh, I suppose you might have seen me before I disinherited myself," Quatre said smiling back. "You most certainly do not have to curtsey even in jest." He felt, possibly for the first time, the reaching out of his empathy, something slow and enveloping in the area.

It wasn't jarring, and there was nothing horrible. The young woman was neutral, curious, interested. "Still. I have to keep in practice because so many random people come by." She wandered closer, peering at the piano. "My mother's the head chef and I do the baking."

"You do? What's your speciality?" he asked politely. He had no problem controlling himself around her, there was no urge to delve deeper into her emotions which was a relief. Either she did not have the level of trauma required or there was something different about Treize. "I'm sure you make many wonderful treats."

"Bread, pastries. A lot of pastries. I'm starting culinary school in the fall." She grinned, and there was pride there, delight and a little bragging.

"The General very much likes pastries," Quatre confided as if revealing a secret. "Do you think you could make some for him as a surprise? I know he can ask for whatever he wants but sometimes it's nice to have a surprise for no reason."

She was smirking a little, as she walked closer to the piano. "We don't actually stand on ceremony when there's no one around. He's just Treize. Sometimes Mr. Treize if mum's feeling scolding."

"Treize then," Quatre said. "He talked about liking them the other day. " He played a little more. "Do you have any requests?" he joked a little.

"Hmn, hmn. Do you know anything from L1?" Just open curiosity at what he was doing there, and it was a relief not to be picking up on anything... straining.

"I think I know a few," he replied, starting into something he knew was an old favorite from that colony. He'd often wondered if Heero was actually from L1 or that was just where Wing had been created.

He wondered if anyone knew. If Treize had tendrils of information about him. She was grinning and humming along a little. "Granddad plays them sometimes. We came from L1 way back when dad was a kid." The first colony, and that was funny to think of, people considering themselves as coming from the colonies and not Earth.

"It was strange the first time I came to Earth," Quatre mused. "It's beautiful. Even through the war I would stop and be astonished at how beautiful a sunrise and sunset were. The sea... that was something no one on the colonies could really understand until they saw it. Did you feel the same?" He kept playing softly, though.

"It's..." She made a thoughtful noise. "It's the weather that really makes it weird. Like there were rain days before, you know, and now it can be any time, and cold or too windy, or rain in sunshine." She looked toward the window. "Or snow. It's too cold here sometimes."

"I want to experience snow properly at some point," he told her. "But I'm not well enough yet. I probably will be soon, but there's work to be done."

"What work are you doing for Treize? He's down there shouting at Plans again." So the staff knew enough about the operation to use casual words.

"He wants me to be his aide-de-camp, so that means helping wherever needed. Maybe with putting bits of work together, or security." He smiled a little.

"Mmm. Didn't Doctor John say everyone was supposed to be resting? Not that anyone here knows what that means." She strokes fingers along the top of the piano. "Your playing is very nice. What do you think, raspberry croissants or chocolate?"

"Both sound lovely." He smiled. "Raspberry chocolate croissant? A new flavour."

"Hmmm, yes. We'll see how it goes. So, mum's the head cook; father's the butler, runs the house for Treize. My brother joined up years ago, and he's Sergeant Maes downstairs. Does security, and we're glad to have him home. If you need anything or something happens, talk to any of us, okay? Dad worked here before the General was born, and it used to be very upstairs downstairs. I don't think that helped anyone."

"Thank you Lily," he said, genuinely grateful for having a normal interaction with someone. It gave him hope that he could deal with other people. "I'll be pulling my weight soon enough." 

She shrugged her shoulders. "You're a guest. Like Zechs."

"You knew him well?" Quatre asked. He hadn't coincided with Zechs Merquise like the others had, though everyone had seen him on the news, but he was feeling a familiarity with him now which he assumed he had acquired from Treize.

"Yes." She grinned, and looked toward the library door. "He was up and down. He was fun and he was crazy, and then sometimes they'd lock themselves in here for hours and plot. Or read."

Quatre was absolutely sure that they did more than that in here. "I wish I could have known him." That echoed emotion from Treize made that a genuine regret. Treize remembered a Zechs who was breathtaking.

He was everything to Treize for a very long time, best friend, closest lover, and when the man's tastes had changed, he hadn't held it against him, hadn't... it was very complicated. They had still been fast friends at the end, even trying to kill each other. "To quote my brother, he was amazing and bipolar as shit."

Quatre laughed, surprised at that comment. "Well that’s a description I've not heard before."

"You had to have seen him. He swung between warm and charming to excited to misery like..." She shrugged her shoulders. "And Lady Une. Lady had a split personality. I liked Miss Noin, she was always very calm."

"She is," Quatre agreed. "I know Noin, but didn't know the others personally. Noin is very kind." And he felt for her losing Zechs.

There had been something real and deep there, at least on her side. "She is." The young woman smiled at him. "So you know. Even with you sick and falling over and Treize half dead, it's still quieter than Christmas a couple of years ago. Don't feel bad."

And with that, she left the library.

He wondered then what she was referring to, his mind picking over the conversation and his own reactions as he played the piano again. He had been in control of the seeking nature of his empathy this time around. Maybe there was something to the speculation that Treize was a broken newtype. But why would that cause him to spin out of control when others didn't? Or was it the nature of what his empathy found as it flowed over a person? There was probably someone around who was more volatile in the house that he could test this with, someone who wasn't Treize, that he could have glancing contact with rather than sustained. Still, doing well made him feel much better, gave him a bit of hope.

His piano playing became a little more upbeat and hopeful as he reflected on what was happening. He also wanted to know what had happened at Christmas a couple of years before, but that was just curiosity. He let his attention wander, half seeking Treize automatically.

It was peaceful in the library, and he enjoyed the peace and quiet. He didn't expect the other young man who came in, carrying a tea tray for him and setting it on the sideboard before slipping back out. 

He was quite thirsty, so he stopped and settled down to have a nice drink. He was definitely feeling better, more in control. Perhaps some of the previous days had also been his own problems and tiredness.

If he gave himself space to reflect, the last two months of his life had been completely wild, to quote Duo. Intense, with so many changes and not enough time to mourn and let go, too much guilt, too many regrets.

He was rather enjoying the library as a space.

It had a good feeling to it, relaxing and something pleasant. The tea was good and he sipped at it, feeling for the first time in days centered enough to actually think about the whole situation with the world and space. Just thoughts but, he liked to think things through like his own version of ZERO.

He could think and ponder and work out what he thought was going on and actually form strategy as he played the piano again. The leadership was Dorothy and what was left of Romefeller, and it seemed she had Trowa vetting them for their continued suitability to serve; Sally and the Alliance remnants, who seemed to be giving Treize no trouble at all; Relena and Sanc as a nation and an ideal; Treize and OZ with Noin as his Adjunct. That was interesting, as if he were positioning her to replace him.

The pieces had been at odds and now were on the surface working to the same goal, but a wise leader would know that for some members of each faction, the war would not end. There was too much human emotion twisted into knots: love, revenge, loss, hatred. What a combination of them could drive people to do. Dorothy, so wound up in her own dance towards self destruction even his attempts not to fight her hadn't assuaged that desire with the cooling draught of peace. He didn't blame her; he understood, but she was an example of the motivations they would be facing. All it would need was either one committed zealot or someone seeking a power base to draw the disaffected under their banner.

That was why it was important to keep Treize in the system, at least for now, even if he was trying to position Noin to replace himself. He was the easiest person for the disaffected to cleave to, well known, a cult of personality. And Dorothy had been nominally supportive of White Fang. But they all needed to stand together, and it felt like they were banding together a little to take something out on Treize.

Treize was an easy scapegoat. He'd tried to be the scapegoat for the whole war movement and take that with him with his death. No, the organizations didn't need to exist as they were,or the fangs of them had to be drawn and neutralized. Politically, the only way to stop resentment of Earth by the colonies was to remove the inequalities, and the prospect of a colony drop was a sword of Damocles hanging over the Earth. The neutral force would be the best bet, yes, for the military left from the wars and the rest. Ideals had to be protected by those willing to sacrifice even those ideals so they could succeed. They had all done that. Some of them had no choice.

He was aware, after a while, that he wasn't alone. He wasn't actively looking for anyone in the room, but somehow Treize had slunk in and settled into a sofa behind him, slouched down and listening.

"You're right."

"I'm right?" he asked, pausing and looking at him.

He startled a little, and rubbed at the side of his head. "I. Huh. You can't consider the Alliance military a neutral force, though. They had everyone under their bootheels for decades. We need something... new."

"Law enforcement perhaps? Keepers of the Peace? Protectors of Earth and Space alike?" Quatre suggested. It looked like the connection between them was stronger than he thought or he was louder at projecting and Treize could receive.

"Yes. Something like that." He rubbed at the side of his head again, looking thoughtful. "L3 has lodged a complaint about the proceedings for disarmament."

He would work on it. "Their specific objections?" Quatre asked, casting his mind over that problem. L3... why would they struggle with disarmament unless they had a specific reason?

"The quote I was given was that _soldiers between the ages of eight and sixteen are an integral part of our training pipeline_." Treize gestured with the drink he was holding. "I asked them to please reflect hard on that statement, and have at least assurances from L1 and L4.”

"That's going to be difficult," Quatre replied. "They're afraid of disarming. They feel vulnerable. It takes more strength to be unarmed than to raise a weapon." He smiled a little. "It seems I remember some of my father's words after all."

"They're children." He grimaced, taking a sip of his drink. "If your army is going to collapse because we'd like to offer alternative care arrangements for the children, you have other structural problems."

"There's a lot of inequality on the colonies," Quatre said carefully. "One of the Winner family missions and ethos was to expand our resource satellites, and development of asteroid farming so that all colonies had the resources for a healthy society. " He thought about his father; they had been at odds but his father had been true to his beliefs and willing to die for them. "Negotiators, social engineers... their basis of society needs support to change. What is their infrastructure like for a non-military route? Perhaps that's the issue."

"The issue is Dekim Barton." A loaded name from the way Treize said it, enunciating carefully. "The power behind Operation Meteor. At this point I could offer him casks of money and he'd find a way to say no on pure principle. Even the rep from L2 is being comparatively reasonable."

"Is there someone he would say yes to?" he asked, getting up from the piano to go sit with Treize. He still felt in control, and that was good, no compulsions this time.

"My head on a silver plate." Treize smiled when he said it, glancing around the room. "I'm attempting to get L1 to pressure him. He would have listened to Quinze, his fellow White Fang co-conspirator, but darn the luck, he's dead."

"Then he'll be our main point of danger to the peace process." Trowa would be the one he would have asked to investigate if it were the pilots alone dealing with this issue. "I'm sure you have people investigating."

"Of course. But I'm allowed to be baffled at the sheer..." He exhaled, and finished his glass in one quick slug. "I have excellent proof of how many assassinations he's been involved in."

"It's an unfortunate fact that many people believe the world, the universe, should revolve around their wants and desires," Quatre agreed. "I've only known a few people where that was actually true even for a short period of time." The mental dance with ZERO was that process. Treize was one of those that shaped the universe around him. He could feel that even now.

Quatre hastily drew back, suddenly aware he had been gently slipping deeper into rapport with the other man. Treize tilted his head slightly, mouth set funny for a moment. "Don't say that."

Quatre looked at him. "Say what?" he asked, trying to work out how that had happened so seamlessly.

"My mother used to go on about me commanding space and Earth. I'm not..." He waved the hand that held the now empty glass. "Anyway."

"My comment wasn't about command," Quatre said. "I'm sorry, it was a careless thing to say. I was distracted by realizing I had entered rapport with you without noticing."

"No, you said something about shaping the universe." He was frowning at Quatre, and then stood up to wander over toward where the tea pot was probably cooling. "I'm sorry, my head is killing me. You look comfortable up here."

"It is a comfortable room." Had the headache occurred at the same time as the rapport? Was that him? He wanted to volunteer to take the pain away but he had been the one to suggest no experiments with it until they had rested. "Come and sit down and rest. I won't try anything, but I can massage without any additional newtype help."

"I could hear you playing downstairs," he said, pouring tea for himself, and meandering back. It was better than the alcohol he'd just finished. "It was nice. You're quite good."

"Rusty," he said, which was the truth. "But I might take the opportunity to practice a little more." He waited until Treize sat and then moved closer to him. "Hmm, you're in pain."

"You probably are, too." He sipped at his tea, giving Quatre a sideways look. 

"A little, but I've been relaxing and you've been having to argue with idiots," Quatre replied. "I just had a pleasant conversation with one of your staff."

"One of the Maes, then." So he knew right off who the pleasant staff were. "Was it a problem?"

"Lily. And no, I was completely in control of my reactions with her, " Quatre said. "I was more consciously aware as well."

"So that's an improvement." He sipped at his tea, and settled comfortably against the back of the sofa. "You didn't say any of that out loud, did you? When you were making faces at me."

"No. It appears you're considered safe to link to without conscious thought." Quatre answered. "I was mentally reaching out to see if you were okay but that was it I thought. I am worried though. Did the headache get worse? Why can't I control that reaction?"

"Or perhaps the headache was from when I reached back. But yes, it did get worse." He took another sip of his tea. "Which will teach me."

"I'll have to be more self aware," Quatre promised. "Tell me if it ever flares unexpectedly, and I'll make sure I'm not doing something."

"We'll figure it out." He dismissed Quatre's anxiety, but shifted a little to better look at Quatre. "Hello."

Quatre was amused. "Hello," he replied, feeling undertones beneath the word. Treize would use it in intimate situations, he knew that. He didn't know how he knew that.

It made the man smile, the gesture almost embarrassed as he seemed briefly caught out. "Habit."

Quatre leaned in against the other man. It would relax the both of them. "Not a bad one." They had crossed a line of intimacy earlier on with the hug and the reassurance. "Rest just a little?" he coaxed.

"Of course." The other man seemed to have no qualms that they had essentially skipped a step or two of... something. For someone with a reputation of being unrelentingly sexual, he settled quite well into another mode, sliding an arm over Quatre's shoulder, sipping at his tea. There was no horrifying spiral of memory, and it was a relief just to sit there.

* * *

"You can keep scanning, and unfortunately, it's still going to show I have a brain," he quipped, before the next round of loud knocking started and he went silent and still again. It was a damn shame he was supposed to keep his eye open because he could doze off right there. There was something oddly comforting about the tight space, the odd creaking knocks, the smell of metal and a system scanning.

He missed piloting.

It was a lot simpler than this political footwork he kept being dragged into, and frankly he'd thought he'd escaped. He wondered briefly if the scans would show any signs of what had happened with Quatre because the other pilot was trying to keep himself rigorously under control. It was rather like watching someone try to train a young enthusiastic dog. His empathy had distinct affinities for certain people, usually those with issues, and he was mastering reining them in. But if the empathy had affinities for some, it was the epitome of a puppy with a favourite toy with him, able to slip its leash and wanting to snuggle up in his brain.

Which was an apt metaphor. Apparently he had a great deal for Quatre's natural empathy to play with. The last time it had slipped its metaphorical leash hadn't been so bad, a casual touch in the hallway that had pulled up the oddest memory of a couple of Christmases ago, when he'd spent the whole evening watching Noin and Zechs flirt, feeling distant and detached in the face of the dull inevitability of it.

Quatre had admitted to musing on that Christmas as it had been mentioned by one of the Maes, and apparently that had been instruction enough for his subconscious to send out a reconnaissance party. Part of the problem was him not knowing he was doing it; he had established control on what he knew he was doing actively, but it frustrated him greatly when that happened. He'd spent another significant amount of time in the last two days meditating, and 'building' mental alerts and security systems.

It hadn't seemed to be that restful an activity for him, and he still looked exhausted despite not doing much physically.

Treize had alternated resting, trying to come up with a solution to the careful balance of power he was unwillingly part of, and getting his staff to pretend to be willing to play along with other organizations. They were still loyal to him, no question, but working with other people still seemed to be a challenge.

He understood why. That was the problem with war. Winning or losing, sometimes people could not let go of it.

He hoped the scan was nearly done; he'd already had several different types of tests. Quatre was sitting patiently. As long as he wasn't suddenly admitted because they detected something horrific, they were going to go somewhere to be visibly seen in public. As such, Quatre had surprised him by toning down the worst of his appearance; the black eye was barely visible, but he said if he covered it all it would look too much like he was concealing things. The world knew he had a black eye, so the best bet was to show them it hadn't been a bad one.

And no uniforms. That had been his concession, because he wasn't on duty, and he needed Quatre to look comfortable. It hadn't been hard to procure normal winter clothes in Quatre's size, and with a hat on and his blond hair, he was going to blend in with the population. They both might, but he suspected not enough that someone wouldn't be curious. It was a fine line between messaging and security, but he felt at home in Luxembourg and the weather was clear, the snow piled high on the ground was familiar.

There was a click and through the headphones he heard, "If you can just hold your breath for this thirty second pass Your Excellency, we will be done. Take a deep breath in now."

Simple enough. He gathered that his guest had not had a huge amount of opportunity to visit cities or towns during their stay on earth, outside the Sanc Kingdom at least.

It would be nice to show off one of his favourite cities to someone. The capitol was deeply familiar to him and it didn't bear the scars of war the same way that New Port City in Sanc did; it didn't have the same kinds of associations.

The machine stopped and then retracted, leaving him in the brightly lit room. The technician smiled and gestured for him to go through and put on his clothes that had had metal in them. "The consultant will look them over," she said. "It won't take long. Then he'll discuss them with you."

"Thank you." He zoned out a little as he went through the motions, pulling his jeans back on, his boots, undershirt and sweater. Zechs had always scolded him for still looking too clean and perfect when they were trying to blend in, so he was trying harder.

Quatre was already looking up when he stepped out into the waiting room. "How was it?" he asked and he knew he wasn't just being polite. Quatre was polite, but he was also genuine. When he talked with the staff , he really did want to know how they were doing. It was a little bit disconcerting.

Particularly when one had been raised in polite society, or on the fringes of it, enough to understand it was neither polite, nor supportive of society, but certainly made a great show of being both. "Nostalgic." He had his coat folded over his arm as he sat down.

There was a pause and he could see when Quatre 'got it'. "I suppose it would be like being in a mobile suit, especially as you had even less room than us."

It was hard not to smile as he sat down for the brief wait he'd been promised. "Correct. Zechs had it worse; we had one set of Leos where he could put both feet on the cockpit door -- there was maybe three feet of room from back of your hips to were the foot controls ended, if we were lucky -- and if he flexed his leg just right, he could get the locking mechanism to disengage."

Quatre actually giggled at that. "I notice you said we," he said a little teasingly. "Were you both in there to discover this... interesting mishap?"

"Not for that series of suit, no." He threw Quatre a grin. "No, this was entirely a battle-related discovery. You never want to find out you can manually disengage the locking mechanism with a good kick. Of course, he radioed it over to me, and I had to test it like an idiot."

Quatre actually snorted. "I don't even know what to say to that," he replied. "Bit of a design flaw."

"Well they tested the damn thing with fourteen year old test pilots who couldn't even reach the doors." Treize cocked an eyebrow at him. "I spent twenty years in suits fitted for someone who'd barely had their balls drop." That had reflected badly on the then UESA's survival rates for mech pilots; the Specials had been the first long standing unit to have soldiers old enough to experience those problems.

It spoke volumes to the problems they were trying to overcome both on Earth and the colonies.

"And space’s solution was to ensure we stayed small," Quatre replied. "While ensuring our resilience. I was lucky in being naturally slight I suppose." He shrugged a little.

"Ah, still. Making sure you eat more can't hurt." He slouched slightly in the chair, half watching the door to be called back in. "Unless you're concerned about fitting comfortably in your cockpit."

"I would have a way to go before that was a problem," Quatre admitted.

The door opened and John and the consultant came out. "Ah, Treize, come on in, Doctor Buse has been showing me your scans."

Quatre smiled at him and settled down with his datapad again to wait out another consultation.

"Good, thank you." He stood up, followed him back into the room. The news was either going to be good or bad, and he was in a place where his feelings about it were neutral because it wasn't anything he could fix either way.

John was capable of delivering bad news without going watery eyed, so he wasn't getting hints that way.

"So, we've done a full run of scans designed to look at the physical and the functional impact on the brain," Dr. Buse informed him. His Universal was heavily accented with German. "Though there is evidence of injury, it is not as severe as was expected, and the interrupted pathways are reconstructing, which is an impressive feat."

John looked at him. "Basically, you should have been a vegetable Treize, and we're not sure why, but things are healing up and improving in there."

"Brains don't grow back. This is a pretty well documented scientific fact. I'm pretty sure you told me that." He rocked back slightly on his heels, watching them both.

"Mm, I did," John said and raised his eyebrows at him.

"It is a phenomena I have not seen before, but I can clearly see on the scans where injuries have been." Dr. Buse said. He seemed to be enthused in a rather clinical way. "Now, there is one area that is the cause of your language disorder that seems to be a result of hard impact, concussion and the electrical discharge. From the injuries to your face and scalp and optic centre I would have expected to see much more evidence of dysfunction." He was gesturing to a series of brain scans that looked practically identical. "If we had not done the functional tests, I would have assumed we would see minimal improvement. But the functional test was indicating visible bridging."

"In other words, this is new, it's exciting. You are slowly fixing yourself, we can see that, but we're not sure why." John translated. "But it means potentially in up to six months time if we scanned your brain, we would see nothing obvious."

"And I might have my reading back." Taking it down to the annoyingly functional level of what it meant for him rather than what it meant for science.

"We need to have regular scans to track progress," Dr. Buse said. "We shall set them up. And will be able to give a better estimate after a few data points. But it is good news."

"Better than I thought we'd get," John said. "You get to have some better meds. How have the headaches been?"

"Occasionally crippling. The good news is that it's been helping enforce your rest orders. It's hard to carry on with my staff when my head hurts so much I can't think straight." So he had horrifying brain damage but it was... getting better.

That made no sense at all.

"I will write a prescription and get it filled," Dr. Buse said and headed out.

John just looked at him. "You lucky jammy bastard," he said, sounding fond.

He exhaled, lifting his one visible eyebrow at John. "Do you have any clue what's actually going on? I'm glad to have my wits but none of this makes sense."

"No, it doesn't make sense," John said exhaling. "So, as a friend, I'm asking you. Have you taken anything experimental maybe during the war that you haven't been able to declare, or had any experimental device work on you? Because that's the only thing I can think of that would result in this. Either that or you are... different yourself."

"I don't know." He shrugged, not to dismiss John's concern, but to make him understand the lack of knowing. "I joined young and I was a test pilot for a while. I worked with experimental systems. I don't know. Half of it was under UESA, and they burned records for five years straight."

"We're just going to have to assume that you did," John said. "It's the only explanation. Dr. Buse is trustworthy himself but he's going to start digging, I can tell you that. Something that can cause brain tissue and neural pathways to rebuild... that's a game changer."

Two possibilities: the neural interface of ZERO... or Quatre.

"It could be the mobile suit I built. Epyon. I had it salvaged. If we get through the election, I'll get to it and let you run tests on it this summer. Amazing machine." Even if it was possibly Quatre, he needed to hide it.

"Neural interface?" John half stated, half asked. "Well, that could be it. That would be... well it wouldn't be the first time something developed for war ended up saving lives. Dr. Buse is probably hoping I can get an answer out of you, that's why he left, but that would be very good if it was that. How are you feeling otherwise?"

"Better than when you last visited the house. Quatre's eating regularly. I might be drinking less. Might. Resting. I suspect I'll survive." Neural interface indeed.

So much more than just a neural interface, but then military secrets were just that for a reason.

"I saw him as I came in. " John said. "He still looks like rest is not his forte."

"He meditates instead of resting and I have an idea that's an active process. More so than throwing paper airplanes into the fireplace." He put his hands idly into his pockets.

"Never been good at that sort of thing myself," John replied as Dr. Buse returned with the prescriptions.

"Ah, here we are. And please come back in a fortnight," he requested, reaching to shake his hand. "We shall check your progress."

He shook the man's hand. "Thank you. I'm glad of the good news. I think this calls for a bit of celebration. John, thank you. Maybe the next time you come around it'll be for dinner, and not trauma."

He got up and left and then exited the room to see Quatre looking at him hopefully. "Is everything okay?" he asked, standing up.

"Better than okay. Do you feel like having lunch out?" He threw Quatre a smile, and was half ready to support him if he needed it.

"That sounds like it could be fun," Quatre said. He didn't push for answers but moved into step with him as they left.

While they walked down the hallway, Treize shrugged into his coat. "Do you feel up to a brief walk? At a leisurely pace?"

"I'm stronger than I look," Quatre answered with a faint smile. "I once crashed in a desert. It was some way to safety."

"But if you slip on ice and crack your head, I'll feel terrible." And possibly end up lynched by his colleagues. He waited until they were in the elevator. "Apparently I should be a vegetable."

"But you aren't, so how is that the case?" he asked as they descended to the hospital reception.

"Might be Epyon." Given that he had been persistently not a vegetable before meeting Quatre, perhaps it was a little of a and a little of b.

Quatre nodded. "It could be," he commented. "That would be very interesting."

"Or, you know." He lifted his eyebrow at Quatre conveying the other suspicion. "There's a nice Belgian place we can go to. I'd suggest Luxembourgish, but we stole our best foods from the neighbors."

"I've never had either of these foods." Quatre lit up a little, seeming genuinely excited. "Is it somewhere you know well?" They exited the elevator and headed out of the hospital. There was a slow snow flurry going on, but nothing that would stop them walking.

"Yes. It's a bit like a library inside. I like going there." It was familiar and the staff acted like he was a normal person, and gave him shit, which was delightful. "Moules frites."

"Moules frites?" Quatre sounded intrigued. "Is that mussels and fries?"

"Yes. Usually with tomato sauce or garlic. It's an indulgence," he admitted, "but I enjoy indulgences." After all, what else was one alive for if not to indulge when one had a chance? 

"It sounds like an interesting thing to try," Quatre agreed, smiling at the thought of something new as they walked beneath the fall of fluffy snow.

He made sure that they were heading in the correct direction and then kept to a slow pace, giving Quatre time to look around and enjoy the weather. "if you end up not liking it, I'll eat yours,"

"I think I'll like it. Going hungry gives you an appreciation for virtually any food." Quatre said, seemingly enchanted by the snow.

Treize looked up at the sky for a moment, grinning. Because he should have been a vegetable, and he wasn't. He was alive, against his will, and he was functioning, and it was snowing out. "Ever thrown a snowball?"

"No," Quatre said."I've seen it in movies but we tend to favour hotter climates for our visits to Earth." He looked young and innocent and unsuspecting.

Treize leaned over to scrape off a windowsill as they meandered along, packing one lightly so it would go puff appropriately. "You have to try."

Quatre looked at him and then stole a scoop of snow. "Like this?" he said innocently and then hurled it with pinpoint accuracy demonstrating he could fake a reaction. He had very obviously known how this worked.

"Just like that!" Treize laughed as it exploded in the center of his chest, and whipped the snowball he had formed at Quatre's shoulder.

It exploded in powder and Quatre ran forward to find a bit more snow and hurl it back. It was obvious he was trained because his accuracy was spot on each time but he wasn't alone in that training, only Treize was still dealing with his lack of depth perception.

Still, neither of them were fighting to the death, and it was fun, good to duck down around a power box, forming a ball before he came back up to try again, and nearly hit a passerby instead. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

Quatre was laughing and apologetic. "I apologize, we got carried away," he said as he tried to re-establish some decorum. He looked bright eyed and flushed with a little color on his cheeks.

Treize straightened as the couple passed, grabbing a snowball behind his back since the last one had gone so awry. It was easier to smile and wait for them to pass before he struck again, still laughing.

Quatre tried to dodge and ended up nearly falling over, and into him. "Oh, sorry, sorry."

He reached out instinctively to halfway catch and steady Quatre, "That's probably enough of that," Treize chuckled, rubbing at his shoulder. "C'mon, it's another block to the restaurant."

Quatre looked up at him, eyes bright with fun. "We should get the whole base involved," he said grinning.

"Ah, that usually ends in someone bleeding or jumping from a high place to..." He waved his free hand. "Tactically get the advantage."

"Speaking from experience, I take it?" Quatre queried as they drew close to their destination.

"I have spent an inordinate amount of my professional life getting soldiers out of hospital or jail." He pulled away only to open the door to the restaurant for Quatre.

The sense of comfort and familiarity was strong as they stepped inside. The scents of the food, the warmth. He was glad to be here.

"I feel I missed out, although Duo..."

Treize gestured Quatre to the wide stairs that went past the greeting desk, which wasn't manned. "Probably in and out of both. His experiences were different."

"Mmm, they were. I was lucky in how I grew up, to a point," he answered, heading upwards eagerly.

"Money and privilege can paper over problems and make it easy to hide things. Dirt and clothes with holes in them make people suspicious of even actual happy families." At the top of the stairs was a dining room, lined with bookshelves and windows. There was a small bar in the corner, and the barman waved. It wasn't busy; only two other tables were occupied.

Perfect. Enough for Quatre to be out in public without being overwhelmed with crowds, and for himself, too. They could be seated discretely and talk.

He gestured at the bartender to a corner table away from the other two tables and nudged Quatre to head that way. The man gave him a thumbs up and looked to be scrounging menus. "Anything here is good. They also have a nice stock of lambics, though I know I'm not going to tempt you into alcoholism. I'll let a few more weeks with my staff do that all on its own."

"I don't actually really drink," Quatre admitted. "We didn't back on the colony. I sometimes say I do because some people see it as a challenge if I say I don't. But I'm told caffeinated drinks have a similar effect on me."

"It's insecurity on the drinker's behalf if they see it as a challenge. You can say no and they perhaps can't and it makes them feel bad." He made an amused face as he took his coat off, and reached for Quatre's to hang them up. "I know I've been a functional alcoholic a time or two in my career."

"I think many soldiers are," he answered. "I've seen Duo and Trowa drink a place nearly dry before."

"It works better if you do it slowly so you can actually feel it hitting you. There's a fine line between a nice evening and a blackout." And sometimes nice evenings that included a couple of blackouts, but he didn't think Quatre was interested in that when he could almost self generate them. "At diplomatic events, I have my staff bring me seltzer water."

"That makes sense," he said as they took a table and settled in. "In the circles you move in, you can't afford to lose your edge."

"You'll be delighted by most of them," he offered sarcastically, leaning back in the chair comfortably. The bartender brought them menus.

Quatre of course thanked the man and looked delighted at the different things he had never seen before. "Are you having the moules frites then?" he asked. "Or anything else you particularly like. I want to try something I've never had before."

"It's an appetizer, so I would recommend perhaps we split an order and then you try something else?" It was good to be out of the house, for a change of pace, seeing as they were both alive.

"If you don't mind splitting, that sounds like a very good idea," Quatre replied smiling. "I used to like cooking. But then, I did it more as a hobby when I was younger. But I can cook. Have you eaten much of the L4 foods? I understand they were inspired by Earth Middle Eastern dishes."

"I've had both; I did a brief diplomatic tour for Romefeller, which is where I ran into your father. I found the L4 food was... sweeter?" He flipped back and forth in the menu for a moment, back to the back, and felt relief to find French. "I can't cook, but I can make drinks."

"Maybe I'll be allowed to try something out," Quatre said. "Do you like sweeter or more savoury? There are savoury dishes only, they're considered more rustic meals."

"I'm quite easy with food. So what do you think, pork belly, escargot, steak?" He gestured to the menu before him.

"Oh, that is difficult to choose from." Quatre frowned a little. "I'd like to try them all but I don't want to waste them with my low appetite."

"Get a large sampler and we could split?" Treize shrugged. "I haven't been running, so."

"A sampler might work, yes," Quatre said. "If that's okay with you? I don't want to deprive you of a meal."

He snorted, and waved over the bartender. "I'm behind on my physical training. And you'll find this food more than enough."

He gave their order and got some drinks, and caught Quatre a little zoned out when he had done. He was starting to recognize his 'just checking in with the empathy’ look.

"How are you doing?" It was interesting, just from a scientific point of view.

"Okay I think," Quatre answered. "The... uh, headache is under control. I was a little worried the noises might trigger a migraine but it appears to be fine."

"The noises?" He quirked an eyebrow, trying to draw out more of an answer.

"Large amounts of people, being... over stimulating," Quatre amended. He was obviously trying to be a little circumspect about discussing things.

"Maybe next week I'll inflict us both on my staff again, and we can see how that goes." It was posed partially as a question to see how Quatre responses to the idea.

"Mmm, well. That should be okay," Quatre decided. "I seem to be getting more control."

"There's control and then there's comfort with it." He went quiet as the bartender came back toward them, carrying an assortment of interesting breads.

"I'm assuming comfort will come in time," Quatre said. "Time will hopefully help the both of us."

"Hopefully or else you'll have to put up with demands that you read the menu to me. Or else we're stuck with francophone locations," he quipped.

"But they did say you were recovering?" Quatre asked hopefully as he selected one of the breads to try.

"Yes." Treize grabbed a crispy one and broke it in half. "Against all I know about the science of it."

"So actually it could come back sooner rather than later," he suggested, spreading butter on the fresh roll.

"I'm hoping it's sooner. It's damn strange. Then again, I could be a drooling mess, so I don't feel like I have grounds to complain." The atmosphere was relaxing, casual, and then the bartender was back with waters and a cocoa for Quatre.

He looked delighted as he sipped it. "This tastes different, so much nicer than other ones I have had," he said. "Perhaps because it's cold outside?" His eyes flicked to the side slightly and he shifted. "People must flock from far and wide to get one of these," he said with a faint emphasis.

Subtle he was not, and Treize inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement, because he was almost waving semaphore flags. "It's a well known little place."

"If the food is as good as you say, I'm sure it is. " Quatre said. "How did you first find it?"

"Oh, uh. I was out for a walk and impatiently looking for a restaurant on a Friday night that didn't have a massive waitlist. Which isn't to say it's not popular, but it's not..." He gestured to the bookshelves. "Hip?"

"It's a very comfortable feeling. You know I already like books," Quatre said with a smile as their starter was brought over. "Were you on your own?"

"Yes. Is that surprising?" He supposed it was, with his reputation, with what Quatre knew. Treize immediately began to serve Quatre some of the mussels from the vessel.

"It seems the sort of place to take someone," he said with a shrug. "I think I would be someone who sought out places if I'd had the leisure to do so."

"You have the leisure to do so now. It just doesn't feel like it yet." Treize waved a hand from side to side. "I certainly enjoy taking people here now that I've found it."

Quatre ate one of the mussels. "Mmm, that is very nice," he hummed, savouring the taste evidently. "Seafood isn't something I've had much.”

He tsked because he couldn't help himself. "Ha, that's a challenge. Now you've just decided the next ten restaurants I'll take you to."

"There are that many?" Quatre queried, eating another. "Mmm. If we were on L4 I would do the same."

"Drag it through the sauce." Treize gestured. "It goes very well with the acid. And the frites. Maybe sometime you can show me L4."

"That would be nice if I'm allowed," he said. "I'm not sure what they think of us."

"Favorable of the unity government." And they had turned to OZ before the end of the Eve War, which wasn't worth mentioning. That had been a political coup that had cost Quatre his father.

Quatre shrugged."Exactly, which some people might say is in opposition to what we were doing."

"What were you doing?" Treize posed it back to him, sliding a little more frites on Quatre's plate, not at all subtle. "Showing up to defend Sanc?"

"That, being... cut off and denied," Quatre answered. "It was a product of the times, I know that. I don't blame them, though actions made from fear often don't work out well."

"You were a strong backer of part of this government," Treize reiterated. "I think you'll find in popular opinion there's a place for you back home."

"It would be nice to find out sometime," Quatre replied. They had made short work of the starter and he was finally seeming to make some headways without there being an inadvertent crisis.

Quatre was rather good company, as far as Treize was concerned. He drank some of his water, rolled the glass between his hands idly. "No reason we can't find out. I'm sure we'll be headed that way at some point once I'm cleared for travel again."

"Well we shall see after the elections," Quatre said as their tasting platter was brought over. "That... is a lot of food." He sounded worried.

Treize grinned, and leaned back so there was space. "That is a lot of food. Do the damage you can." It was a nice treat and the atmosphere was good and he'd just gotten good news. If he'd just gotten bad news it would've been the same, except with the more alcohol. John might have disapproved of that though he would have understood. Maybe the new meds would help with the persistent headaches as well.

"I'm going to need a lot of help," Quatre murmured. "I think my appetite betrayed me."

"I'm happy to help," he grinned, reaching to slide a little roast onto his own plate, and some endives. "If you're feeling up to it, there's a nice museum nearby."

"A museum of what type?" Quatre asked, trying little bits everywhere from the samples. He would cut off a small piece and eat it with an air of concentration as if determined to savour the flavours and textures. "I'll admit to seeing a few, and galleries."

"Fine arts?" He suggested it after a moment of thinking. "They even have some more modern work."

"I enjoy art, yes," Quatre said. "Despite my tutors' best attempts to squash all the enjoyable parts out of it in my art appreciation lessons."

"Art appreciation lessons?" He grinned then, dipping a bit of waffle through a sauce. "What did you learn?"

"How to sound like a pretentious dick?" Quatre said innocently.

He half choked for a moment and coughed before taking a swig of water. "Formal training for that? How very fancy, you have me beat. My art appreciation begins and ends at _is it beautiful?_ "

"Oh yes. It took a lot of lessons. After all, it wouldn't do for me to not be able to recognize exactly how important and expensive an art piece might be that one of our investors was using as a trophy."

"Oh, that. I just err toward flattery. And often it's quite nice looking. Actual training, though, we can put that to use."

"Yes, well, sometimes there are sculptures and pieces that look like a pile of rubbish," Quatre answered trying a little of the chicken this time.

"Ah, that you look at and say _I prefer a classical style,_ and look just a fraction judgemental." He smiled at that, eating another bite of waffle with a bit of meat. 

"Ooo you are a natural," Quatre commented. "Apparently I wasn't overly good at the superior look."

"We can work on that if you want to." He quirked his eyebrow at Quatre. "So art and music. What else were you classically trained in?"

"Horse riding, fencing... well, to a point," Quatre said ruefully.

"Don't encourage me." He grinned, mouth pulling sideways for a moment. "I would like to see your fencing form."

"It used to be considered good. Until Dorothy." But he hadn't been fighting to kill, but Dorothy had.

"She is good." Treize picked at a bit of the chicken, and pulled a bit more veg onto his plate. "She's never been calm about it."

"Mm, yes," Quatre said. "She was very good. With assistance, she was nigh on unbeatable."

"I definitely want to duel you now." That was a while off, of course, and he had work on his depth perception. "You'll have the upper hand now, of course."

"But no left kidney," Quatre countered with his own disadvantage as a response. "I like the chicken, it's very flavoursome."

"Yes. I can't remember the last time in a duel I didn't put the full force of my left kidney into it." He winked. "So next time we're here you know you like the chicken. And I know I'm going to keep finding ways to make you eat seafood."

"Well, I'm starting to find my limits of capacity. I haven't had much of an appetite for a while and my stomach isn't used to large amounts," Quatre said, making a show of looking winded at the effort. It wasn't really large amounts, barely a normal portion, but he had succeeded in tempting the other pilot into eating a lot more than he had managed in the rest of the time he had been with them.

So that was an improvement. It was hard not to feel pleased by the result, and so he sat back in the chair, sipping at his water. "So you won't mind a bit of a walk in the museum, and then perhaps we'll get back to the house."

"I need to walk this off, definitely," Quatre replied. He stole another mouthful and then gave up. "I'm full."

Delightful, and a much better end to the afternoon than Treize could have predicted.

* * *

Things had calmed down.

It was a relief for Quatre, though he was still in close quarters to Treize at all times. The man was spending a couple of hours a day with his staff,and dragging Quatre into it. He'd even had the staff bring a desk out for Quatre to ensconce himself in. 

It meant that he was actually doing work, though Treize hadn't assigned anything. He was making some progress on a blueprint for a peace strategy that was more than just lofty ideals and hopeful words, having access to the data collected by OZ, and from them the other organizations. Old skills came back, fuelled by better food and rest -- despite his tendency to still have nightmares -- and he could put together patterns and extrapolations and nail down strategies and slot them together into a gradually forming Plan.

He enjoyed their brief sojourns out into the city, though it made him very grateful for the fire when he came back.

The front room of Treize's suite was warm, and the bedroom was crisp, cool, as if the only heat in the cold spaces were coming from the fire. And there hadn't been anything... else, bad. Nothing really stunning except the occasional spike of frustration from the man as he dealt with his own staff when they were being particularly daft.

That was understandable, and he'd managed to maintain the practice of slipping into the same bed with the man, who seemed to need human contact a little like breathing sometimes. He wondered a little if he was preventing him from getting him what he wanted by doing that, but Quatre needed recovery too.

Though he was getting better.

He half wanted to try to see if he could help again, under more control, but he kept remembering how difficult the compulsion had been. He'd had little or no defense against it.

He hadn't felt the compulsion pulling him in to touch any particular wound or memory, but he had also been holding himself at bay on purpose. And with the talk of work and the interesting busy sort of conversation style that Treize had, he hadn't had too much time for reflection in the evenings.

They had talked about a little of everything and anything, and he used Treize’s informed opinions and experience to debate points for the Plan. Treize seemed to relish discussing the seemingly random points as conversation. Treize followed his thoughts as he conversed and that had been fine, but as he learned his moods he could sense he wanted more 'closeness'. So on this particular evening he thought he would chance it and instead of sitting in one of the big chairs, sat himself down next to Treize in a very familiar fashion as if it was just a casual thing they did.

It was worth trying. It also wasn't subtle at all, and Treize turned his head a little, looking at him with a deeply curious look. "This is a strange thing, isn't it?"

"What is?" He queried trying to make it as easy as possible.

"You're stuck here with me. I should feel worse about this than I do. But you are very bright and attractive." He was leaning in just a little.

"Stuck with you?" Quatre asked, feeling comfortable with the man close. "You don't have to feel bad. As you say, it is temporary."

"Until I can get you free and clear." He leaned in just a little more, going for a kiss. Never mind the risk of it, apparently.

Quatre closed his eyes so he could make sure things didn't cut loose as unexpectedly as they had before and felt the warmth, the dryness of a tentative kiss, pressing deeper and...

Something in him ignited and a flood of warmth rose up rapidly. He was ready this time, though, ready to control it so it didn't become the intense burning of before.

He hoped the man had run out of horrors. He didn't think that Treize had, but he hoped. There was a weird moment where memories flickered, but he was trying to steer clear, to stay out of wounds, and everything still overlapped in Treize's head. Quatre distantly viewed a brief moment of Treize and his mother, like a flicker, and then Une, Anne, whoever she was today, taking her glasses off and taking her hair down for him, coaxing her to sit down in some property, and then the memory was moving, and it was him and Zechs in the library. Quatre knew it was a memory that was years and years old; they both looked a decade younger, in their mid-twenties. It was the warmth of drunken kisses, slow and a little sloppy, and Zechs was teasing him about something that struck a nerve but he let it go. Stepfather, something, Dorothy? Dorothy had a crush on him, and did simply everyone want to fuck him? Then Treize was pushing off Zechs's clothes, civilian finery, kissing down his neck. There was a flicker of something dark, a fight, later, years later, and Quatre felt a despair rise up in the man, and then everything shifted abruptly.

He was kissing Trowa.

The link it seemed could go both ways. He could stop it, he could flex the link and shut it down, but he didn't. Turnabout was fair play. He let that memory flow, the first kiss in the cool air of the desert evening, where scorching heat fled and the sounds of the settlement were a fading murmur. The air was scented with the spices of what they had been served for dinner, Rashid determined to get him to eat more after piloting Sandrock, and they had kissed, the sweetness of the candied fruit on his lips, and he'd felt the damaged emotions and just instinctively given sweetness, light, a brush of joy and felt nothing but amazement flow back to him. A more insistent kiss had followed and the night had become golden, and intoxicating as... he couldn't stop himself from trying to fill an aching void in Trowa. Other memories tried to overlap, chained to his recollections of 03.

It wasn't an out of control spiral, and the focus remained on that moment, on the intimacy and sex, not the other threads; not caught in it, but exploring it thoroughly, private, yes, but enjoyable; sprawled out beneath Trowa, and finally it ebbed back.

When he surfaced they were still on the sofa, and Treize had both hands on his face, pulling back only a little. The touch was warm, gentle, fingers lingering against his cheeks. "You experience sex differently." 

He nodded looking up at him. "I'm coming to realize that," he murmured. "But that was a nice kiss, and I could have shut down my part at least. Did you push back?" He was more than happy to keep kissing if Treize was. He wanted to know how other people experienced things.

"I don't often go to nice places, so when I felt it start to shift to my detainment, yes, I pushed." He was still looking intently at Quatre. "Do you want to see what happens if we try something more?"

"I certainly want to try more of that," Quatre agreed and smiled mischievously. "More exposure means more resilience after all."

"I'm not looking for you to fill any emotional holes," Treize said, sliding his fingers down the side of Quatre's neck, the touch light and thoughtful, skimming. "You're a gorgeous man."

He shivered slightly, the touch feeling electric. "It feels good though, amazingly good. I don't know any other way."

"Let's give you a different experience." And Treize could push back now, so perhaps it was possible. He pulled back enough to start to unbutton Quatre's shirt, fingers deft and easy, "I prefer my partners not try to take on the burden of repairing years of poor decision making. It's not really fair to a person, is it?"

"I'm not doing it consciously," Quatre half apologized, but he was enjoying that touch. It pleased Treize to be doing it from the feel of it.

"Lady Une was determined to do it with no abilities at all. Terribly annoying," he said lightly, pulling Quatre's shirt tails out of his pants.

"I'll try and keep it to just general good feelings," Quatre replied. "But if you distract me too much there might be a bit of... slippage." He wasn't sure how far they could go without there being a problem.

"We'll see how far we get. I'm curious." He was curious, and enjoyed knowing how people ticked, but in that moment he was simply kissing Quatre's neck, fingers exploring over his stomach, skipping past the bandages.

"Mmm, I am too," he murmured, nuzzling back. Treize smelled nice, his cologne a little spicy. It seemed to be when he kissed back his instinct started to become more active. He kept the energy flow to a warmth... and then wondered if he could alter sensations. That would be fun to try.

Stretch his wings a little with a partner who didn't need immediate emotional triage. "Too many buttons," he sighed, kissing Quatre's left nipple, trying to simultaneously get his shirt off.

That felt tingly, and sparkling somehow like a fizz of champagne and he could feel that sensation echoing in his fingers as he slipped his fingers under fabric.

Treize's skin was warm, and he was careful not to dwell on any of the scars he skimmed. The man pulled back after a moment, shrugged out of his own shirt and Quatre felt a brief burst of gladness that they weren't in uniform coming from Treize because he hated those tiny buttons and hidden catches when he wanted to be naked. There was no self-consciousness in him about the bandages, the swathe that covered his missing eye, but there was a little concern about Quatre's bandages.

He smiled a little and pushed that feeling of tingling fizz out of his fingertips to see if Treize could feel it or not as he trailed fingers over the now exposed skin. He liked the looseness of it all, the desire lapping over him like its own form of erotic massage.

It was desire; he could feel Treize's interest, carnal and far from pure, a fascination in touch, in the way his obliques and his hip bone interacted, the feel of skin while Treize exhaled in a shudder and kissed his way down, unbuttoning Quatre's slacks. "Fuck that's good."

"It's a new thing," Quatre replied. "That's what I felt like when you sucked on my nipple." He was pleased with himself that it had worked, because that opened the way for so much more fun. If Treize didn't want the emotional healing side of sex, he could have the physical side. That quivering feeling of growing excitement in his stomach, he could let that seep in and keep the warmth wriggling down tendril like there was something warm and pulsing seeping its way into Treize's pants.

It got a reaction, a groan, and Treize looked up from where he was practically kneeling on the floor now, grinning at Quatre with a heat in his eyes. "Oh yes, this is definitely going to get interesting." Treize turned his hand slightly, brushed the edge of fingernails against his left hip bone, a gentle sensation, and kissed Quatre's stomach, his other hand unzipping him.

"Mmm," it was and it was easy for him to be carried away in all this sensation and emotion. "I have more control than I thought I could." The nerves on the outside of his leg fired up in a surge. He cast that shiver down Treize's spine like a waterfall of aching need that simple touch had fired off.

Treize dropped his head to Quatre's thigh for a moment, exhaling a hard huff that sounded slightly like a moan. Despite it, he managed to get Quatre's pants bunched down around his thighs, cock bouncing upright.

"Treize," he gasped out, worried he was going to lose that. "What do you want?" He didn't want to trigger them both if Treize wanted to be sucked or to come in his mouth, or something. He touched his hair, his temples, seeking just that answer hoping he could make this an even exchange of pleasure.

It felt like he just wanted to enjoy himself, something fuzzy and indistinct, to relish in someone else's body and pleasure. "Just this. Been too long." He could feel darker discomfort, and Treize shoved that away, fingers curling against Quatre's hip as he leaned in to kiss the underside of his cock.

Quatre writhed a little, losing a bit of his focus and the sensation scattered all over the both of them, that aching pleasure as he groaned and the glorious tightening. The twining warmth curling around Treize's cock, pulsed in an echo of the blood he could feel in his own erection and proliferated to curl and twine and seek a way to encourage the other man to do more.

He could tell when it hit right; felt when Treize gave a shudder, counterpoint to the slow wet suction as he kept determinedly at Quatre, head bobbing up and down. It overlapped, and Treize seemed to be going with the sensations rather than pushing back against them.

It was hard to keep concentration with that delicious heat and sensation driving him to complete distraction. He got lost in the feedback loop for a while, uninhibited in his responses and how he cast them out, but somewhere in the mix he started to overlap more. Again they were in each other's heads, and the euphoric feedback started to fuel fantasies and desires. Returning the favour, swallowing down that large cock, him beneath Treize being pounded into a glorious oblivion -- he wasn't sure if that was him or Treize.

He supposed he could sort it out later, but it felt good, a promise as much as anything. He could physically feel Treize clutching hard at his hips, could feel the head of his cock hitting the back of the other man's throat, a swallow, and he hit oblivion.

He must have broadcast that hard and it was overwhelming with the new sensitivity and he could feel himself not wanting to let go, flooding them both with the light and golden feeling in the same way as his body pumped out endorphins. There was no control on that, he wasn't in control then and he didn't care.

It took him some time to come back from the pleasure dazed state.

General Khushrenada was kneeling between his legs, arms draped around Quatre's hips, his head resting on Quatre's thigh. "Hmh."

He reached to try and pull him up to be with him; he wanted to wrap around him and hold him in a warm drowsy cocoon of comfort. "Thank you," he murmured. It had been like the first time in a way that he had been focused on his pleasure. "Can I hold you?"

There was a quiet chuckle against his skin, and Treize nodded, getting up slowly, hands lingering on Quatre as he did so. "Perhaps we should adjourn to bed."

"Can we?" Quatre said. He could tell in a strange way the comfort in the afterglow was as important to Treize as the act itself. He moved, finding his legs a little wobbly but was able to get himself up and making his way to Treize's bed.

Treize steadied him, leaving their clothes in place. He stopped short of the bed to get out of his own boots and pants, but there was a definite allure to getting into the bed, still sticky and drifty from orgasm. He got Quatre a glass of the funny electrolyte mix, swigging his own as he got until bed with Quatre.

That stuff did seem to help, but holding on to Treize helped more. It was like a final piece placed in a puzzle and he relaxed. "Better," he said. "I'm sorry I lost control at the end."

"Now I know not to do anything dicey where I need to maintain focused consciousness when you come," was the only thing Treize said as he settled in beside Quatre, sliding an arm around him.

"At the risk of a cliché, how was it for you?" Quatre asked, smiling to himself. "I'm curious as to what my experiments felt like."

"Very good." Treize exhaled slowly, and he stretched his fingers a little. "I enjoy making sure my partners feel pleasure."

"You certainly do that," Quatre said, finding a comfortable niche, head on his chest and holding the other man. "And I do, too. It created a bit of a loop between us."

"I'm fairly sure I wasn't the one thinking about fucking you flat into the bed. At least, not in that moment." So it had crossed his mind before.

"But you're not averse to the idea?" he asked. "I'm for it in general but I need to get a little bit more of a grip on things before we get to that level." He laughed a little. "I was only going to go as far as kissing tonight for fear of going out of control. You evidently erode my good intentions."

He could almost feel Treize's smile. "I've been accused of that a time or two, yes. I think we managed it quite well. Your control has improved."

He felt warmly pleased about that. "Yes. But I fear there might have to be more practice to get used to things. Then, well, you feel good when you do it, at the same time as making me feel good."

"Oh, practice. What hardship. Yes, I think this will need a great deal of practice." It wasn't hard, and it wasn't... wasn't quite the same as the last time he'd had sex. Not really. It was something different when it was grounded in the physical.

"Is it okay that we don't go to that next stage yet?" Quatre asked. "I want to, but if I lost control today, I definitely would then."

Treize rubbed lightly at his shoulder, and he felt amused. "If you never want to, we can have quite a lot of fun. It isn't the pinnacle of sex."

"I think I would rather enjoy it and so would you but it would certainly put a damper on things if we had an episode like we did at the start when you were balls deep in me," Quatre replied with a frankness he knew surprised people sometimes. "Once I get over that hurdle, I want not just that but anything else you have in mind. I suspect you have more experience than I do."

"If you hang out in my mind much more you'll have the same experience," he drawled. He could feel Treize shift a little, as if the graphic description hit him quite well. "No pressure. You can change your mind any time."

"Yes, but I also don't want to be a deliberate tease," Quatre told him. "And then completely lose my focus and let my whatever go roaming around memories again. Though it is interesting it can go both ways. I wonder if that's just you."

"I might steer more next time." He leaned a little to kiss Quatre's temple. "I was rather trying to focus on sucking your cock."

"I, for one, am glad you are very mission orientated," Quatre quipped. "And for the record, it's something I approve of. Though it's my turn next time."

"No protests. Still feel pretty boneless." Quatre could feel the man relaxing, breathing slowly, dozing.

That was good. Treize was relaxed and calm and that had to be a first since he'd known him. It had been a marvellous experience, and Quatre was looking forward to more. He wanted to learn how to do sex the way other people seemed to as well. It was easy just to lie here and muse on the whole thing.To drift and think and wonder just, exactly, he had gotten himself into. Not what he was doing there, because he was surviving, carrying on, doing his best to improve the world.


End file.
